The eternal city

THE LIBRARY

OF

THE UNIVERSITY

OF CALIFORNIA

LOS ANGELES

GIFT

From the Library of

Henry Goldman, Ph.D.

1886-1972

Digitized by the Internet Archive

in 2007 with funding from

IVIicrosoft Corporation

http://www.archive.org/details/eternalcityOOcainiala

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THE ETERNAL CITY

Spr, l^all Caine's

jl5oi)el0.

Crime,

The Shado<w of a

A Son of Hagar,

The Deemster,

The Bondman,

The Scapegoat,

The Manxman,

The Christian,

The Eternal City,

The

Eternal City

By

Hall Caine

He looked for a city which hath foun-
dations whose builder and maker is God

New York

D. Appleton and Company

1 90 1

Copyright, 1901,
By hall CAINI'l

All rights reserved.

StacK
Annex

HHOH

CONTENTS

Prologue

PAOB

1

PART ONE
The Holy Roman Empire .... 9

PART TWO
The Republic op Man .... 58

PART THREE
Roma 104

PART FOUR
David Rossi 165

PART FIVE
The Prime Minister 252

PART SIX
The Roman of Rome 335

PART SEVEN
The Pope 426

PART EIGHT
The King 528

PART NINE
The People 582

Epilogue ^^5

T

*

THE ETERNAL CITY

PROLOGUE

He was hardly fit to figure in the great review of life. A
boy of ten or twelve, in tattered clothes, with an accordion
in a case swung over one shoulder like a sack, and under the
other arm a wooden cage containing a grey squirrel. It was
a December night in London, and the Southern lad had noth-
ing to shelter his little body from the Northern cold but his
short velveteen jacket, red waistcoat, and knickerbockers. He
was going home after a long day in Chelsea, and, conscious
of something fantastic in his appearance, and of doubtful
legality in his calling, he was dipping into side streets in
order to escape the laughter of the London boys and the at-
tentions of policemen.

Coming to the Italian quarter in Soho, he stopped at the
door of a shop to see the time. It was eight o'clock. There
was an hour to wait before he would be allowed to go indoors.
The shop was a baker's, and the window was full of cakes
and confectionery. From an iron grid on the pavement there
came the warm breath of the oven underground, the red glow
of the fire, and the scythe-like swish of the long shovels. The
boy blocked the squirrel under his armpit, dived into his
pocket, and brought out some copper coins and counted them.
There was ninepence. Ninepence was the sum he had to take
home every night, and there was not a halfpenny to spare.
He knew that perfectly before he began to count, but his
appetite had tempted him to try again if his arithmetic was
not at fault.

The air grew warmer, and it began to snow. At first it
was a fine sprinkle that made a snow-mist, and adhered
wherever it fell. The traffic speedily became less, and things
looked big in the thick air. The boy was wandering aimlessly

1

2 THE ETERNAL CITY

through the streets, waiting for nine o'clock. When he
thought the hour was near, he realised that he had lost his
way. He screwed up his eyes to see if he knew the houses
and shops and signs, but everything seemed strange.

The snow snowed on, and now it fell in large, corkscrew
flakes. The boy brushed them from his face, but at the next
moment they blinded him again. The few persons still in the
streets loomed up on him out of the darkness, and passed in a
moment like gigantic shadows. He tried to ask his way, but
nobody would stand long enough to listen. One man who
was putting up his shutters shouted some answer that was
lost in the drumlike rumble of all voices in the falling snow.

The boy came up to a big porch with four pillars, and
stepped in to rest and reflect. The long tunnels of smoking
lights which had receded down the streets were not to be seen
from there, and so he knew that he was in a square. It would
be Soho Square, but whether he was on the south or east of
it he could not tell, and consequently he was at a loss to know
which way to turn. A great silence had fallen over every-
thing, and only the sobbing nostrils of the cab-horses seemed
to be audible in the hollow air.

He was very cold. The snow had got into his shoes, and
through the rents in his cross-gartered stockings. His red
waistcoat wanted buttons, and he could feel that his shirt was
wet. He tried to shake the snow off by stamping, but it clung
to his velveteens. His numbed fingers could scarcely hold
the cage, which was also full of snow. By the light coming
from a fanlight over the door in the porch he looked at his
squirrel. The little thing was trembling pitifully in its icy
bed, and he took it out and breathed on it to warm it, and
then put it in his bosom. The sound of a child's voice laugh-
ing and singing came to him from within the house, muffled
by the walls and the door. Across the white vapour cast out-
ward from the fanlight he could see nothing but the crystal
snowflakes falling wearily.

He grew dizzy, and sat down by one of the pillars. After
a while a shiver passed along his spine, and then he became
warm and felt sleepy. A church clock struck nine, and he
started up with a guilty feeling, but his limbs were stiff and
he sank back again, blew two or three breaths on to the squirrel
inside his waistcoat, and fell into a doze. As he dropped off
into unconsciousness he seemed to see the big, cheerless house,
almost destitute of furniture, where he lived with thirty or

PROLOGUE 3

forty other boys. They trooped in with their organs and ac-
cordions, counted out their coppers to a man with a clipped
moustache, who was blowing whiffs of smoke from a long,
black cigar, with a straw through it, and then sat down on
forms to eat their plates of macaroni and cheese. The man
was not in good temper to-night, and he was shouting at
some who were coming in late and at others who were sharing
their supper with the squirrels that nestled in their bosoms,
or the monkeys, in red jacket and fez, that perched upon
their shoulders. The boy was perfectly unconscious by this
time, and the child within the house was singing away as if
her little breast was a cage of song-birds.

As the church clock struck nine a class of Italian lads
in an upper room in Old Compton Street was breaking up for
the night, and the teacher, looking out of the window, said :

" While we have been telling the story of the great road to
our country a snowstorm has come, and we shall have enough
to do to find our road home."

The lads laughed by way of answer, and cried : " Good-
night, doctor."

" Good-night, boys, and God bless you," said the teacher.

He was an elderly man, with a noble forehead and a long
beard. His face, a sad one, was lighted up by a feeble smile;
his voice was soft, and his manner gentle. When the boys
were gone he swung over his shoulders a black cloak with a
red lining, and followed them into the street.

He had not gone far into the snowy haze before he began
to realise that his playful warning had not been amiss.

" Well, well," he thought, " only a few steps, and yet so
difficult to find."

He found the right turnings at last, and coming to the
porch of his house in Soho Square, he almost trod on a little
black and white object lying huddled at the base of one of the
pillars.

" A boy," he thought, " sleeping out on a night like this !
Come, come," he said severely, " this is wrong," and he shook
the little fellow to waken him.

The boy did not answer, but he began to mutter in a
sleepy monotone, " Don't hit me, sir. It was the snow. I'll
not come home late again. Ninepence, sir, and Jinny is so
cold."

The man paused a moment, then turned to the door and
rang the bell sharply.

THE ETERNAL CITY

II

Half-an-hour later the little musician was lying on a
couch in the doctor's surgery, a cheerful room with a fire and a
soft lamp under a shade. He was still unconscious, but his damp
clothes had been taken off and he was wrapped in blankets.
The doctor sat at the boy's head and moistened his lips with
brandy, while a good woman, with a face of a saint, knelt at
the end of the couch and rubbed his little feet and legs.
After a little while there was a perceptible quivering of the
eyelids and twitching of the mouth.

" He is coming to, mother," said the doctor.

" At last," said his wife.

" My poor little coinitryman ! Another victim of the men
who live on the white slavery of our Italian boys. The scoun-
drels! They scour the villages and country places, tempt the
parents with promises of two pounds, three pounds, four
pounds to part with their boys, leave some lying indenture of
apprenticeship to evade the law, bring the little orphaned
ones to England in droves like cattle, lodge them in some
house more bare than a barrack, give them an accordion, or
an organ, a monkey, or a squirrel, or a cage of white mice,
and then drive them out into the streets to beg or to starve."

" Poor little man ! "

" It makes my throat throb to think of their sufferings,
and none the less because the scoundrels who inflict them
are sons of my own beloved Italy."

" Wliat will God do with such men in the next world, I
wonder ? "

" He seems to do nothing in this world, mother, and that's
the best reason why we should ourselves do something. If
there's law in England to protect the innocent and punish the
guilty, I will bring some of these scoundrels to justice."

The boy moaned and opened his eyes, the big helpless eyes
of childhood, black as a sloe, and with long black lashes. He
looked at the fire, the lamp, the carpet, the blankets, the
figures at either end of the couch, and with a smothered cry
he raised himself as though thinking to escape.

" Carino ! " said the doctor, smoothing the boy's curly
hair. " Lie still a little longer."

The voice was like a caress, and the boy sank back. But
presently he raised himself again, and gazed around the room
as if looking for something. The good mother understood

PROLOGUE 5

him perfectly, and from a chair on which his clothes were
lying she picked up his little grey squirrel. It was frozen
stiff with the cold and now quite dead, but he grasped it
tightly and kissed it passionately, while big teardrops rolled
on to his cheeks.

" Carino ! " said the doctor again, taking the dead squirrel
away, and after a while the boy lay quiet and was comforted.

" Italiano— si ? "

" Si, Signore."

" From which province ? "

" Campagna Komana, Signore."

" Where does he say he comes from, doctor ? "

" From the country district outside Rome. And now you
are living at Maccari's in Greek Street — isn't that so ? "

"Yes, sir."

" How long have you been in England — one year, two
years ? "

" Two years and a half, sir."

" And what is your name, my son ? "

" David Leone."

" A beautiful name, carino ! David Le-o-ne," repeated the
doctor, smoothing the curly hair.

" A beautiful boy, too ! What will you do with him,
doctor?"

" Keep him here to-night at all events, and to-morrow
we'll see if some institution will not receive him. David
Leone ! Where have I heard that name before, I wonder ?
Your father is a farmer ? "

But the boy's face had clouded like a mirror that has been
breathed upon, and he made no answer.

" Isn't your father a farmer in the Campagna Romana,
David?"

" I have no father," said the boy.

" Carino ! But your mother is alive- — yes ? "

" I have no mother."

" Caro mio ! Caro mio ! You shall not go to the institu-
tion to-morrow, my son," said the doctor, and then the mirror
cleared in a moment as if the sun had shone on it.

" Listen, father ! "

Two little feet were drumming on the floor above.

" Baby hasn't gone to bed yet. She wouldn't sleep until
she had seen the boy, and -I had to promise she might come
down presently."

6 THE ETERNAL CITY

" Let her come down now," said the doctor.

The boy was supping a basin of broth when the door burst
open with a bang, and like a tiny cascade which leaps and
bubbles in the sunlight, a little maid of three, with violet
eyes, golden complexion, and glossy black hair, came bound-
ing into the room. She was trailing behind her a train of
white nightdress, hobbling on the portion in front, and car-
rying under her arm a cat, which, being held out by the neck,
was coiling its body and kicking its legs like a rabbit.

But having entered with so fearless a front, the little
Avoman drew up suddenly at sight of the boy, and, entrench-
ing herself behind the doctor, began to swing by his coat-tails,
and to take furtive glances at the stranger in silence and
aloofness.

" Bless their hearts ! what funny things they are to be
sure," said the mother. " Somebody seems to have been tell-
ing her she might have a brother some day, and when nurse
said to Susanna, ' The doctor has brought a boy home with
him to-night,' nothing was so sure as that this was the
brother they had promised her, and yet now . . . Roma,
you silly child, why don't you come and speak to the poor
boy who was nearly frozen to death in the snow ? "

But Roma's privateering fingers were now deep in her
father's pocket, in search of a specimen of the sugar-stick
which seemed to live and grow there. She found two sugar-
sticks this time, and sight of a second suggested a bold adven-
ture. Sidling up toward the couch, but still holding on to
the doctor's coat-tails, like a craft that swings to anchor, she
tossed one of the sugar-sticks on to the floor at the boy's side.
The boy smiled and picked it up, and this being taken for suf-
ficient masculine response, the little daughter of Eve proceeded
to proper overtures.

"Oo a boy?"

The boy smiled again and assented.

" Oo me brodder ? "

The boy's smile paled perceptibly.

"Oolubme?"

The tide in the boy's eyes was rising rapidly.

" Oo lub me eber and eber ? "

The tears were gathering fast, when the doctor, smoothing
the boy's dark curls again, said :

"You have a little sister of your own far away in the
Campagna Romana — yes ? "

PROLOGUE 7

" N"o, sir."

" Perhaps it's a brother."

" I ... I have nobody," said the boy, and his voice
broke on the last word with a thud.

" You shall not go to the institution at all, David," said
the doctor softly.

" Doctor Roselli ! " exclaimed his wife. But something in
the doctor's face smote her instantly and she said no more.

" Time for bed, baby."

But baby had many excuses. There were the sugar-sticks,
and the pussy, and the boy-brother, and finally her prayers
to say.

" Say them here, then, sweetheart," said her mother, and
with her cat pinned up again under one arm and the sugar-
stick held under the other, kneeling face to the fire, but
screwing her half closed eyes at intervals in the direction of
the couch, the little maid put her little waif-and-stray hands
together and said :

" Our Fader oo art in Heben, alud be my name. Dy
kingum tum. Dy will be done on card as it is in Heben.
Gib us dis day our dayey bread, and forgib us our tres-
passes as we forgib dem lat trelspass ayenst us. And lee us
not into temstashuns, but deliber us from ebil . . . for eber
and eber. Amen."

The house in Soho Square was perfectly silent an hour
afterward. In the surgery the lamp was turned down, the
cat was winking and yawning at the fire, and the doctor sat
in a chair in front of the fading glow and listened to the
measured breathing of the boy behind him. It dropped at
length, like a pendulum that is about to stop, into the noise-
less beat of innocent sleep, and then the good man got up and
looked down at the little head on the pillow.

Even with the eyes closed it was a beautiful face; one of
the type which great painters have loved to paint for their
saints and angels — sweet, soft, wise, and wistful. And where
did it come from? From the Campagna Romana, a scene of
poverty, of squalor, of fever, and of death?

The doctor thought of his own little daughter, whose life
had been a long holiday, and then of the boy whose days had
been an unbroken bondage.

" Yet who knows but in the rough chance of life our little
Roma may not some day . . . God forbid ! "

The boy moved in his sleep and laughed the laugh of a

8 THE ETERNAL CITY

dream that is like the sound of a breeze in soft summer
grass, and it broke the thread of painful reverie.

" Poor little man ! he has forgotten all his troubles."

Perhaps he was back in his sunny Italy by this time,
among the vines and the oranges and the flowers, running
barefoot with other children on the dazzling whiteness of the
roads ! . . . Perhaps his mother in heaven was praying her
heart out to the Blessed Virgin to watch over her fatherless
darling cast adrift upon the world!

"Oh, the cry of the children, the cry of the children!
The little, helpless, innocent victims of the social maelstrom.
All the world over their cry goes up to heaven, and woe to the
nation, or the government, or the dynasty that will not heed
or hear it ! "

That thought was a key which unlocked the lavender-
closet of his most solemn and sacred memories. No one in
the great, free land of his adoption, not even the saint who
was his wife, had ever yet opened the door of it. A palace
in Rorne — himself young, ardent, enthusiastic, burning with
love of country and desire to serve its cause — his father a
Prince of the Papal Court, proud, imperious, and uncom-
promising— the Pope trying in vain to make peace between
them — expulsion — poverty — obscurity — exile — England — a
new name — a new profession- — life among the people — liberty!
Then marriage with a good Englishwoman almost as solitary
as himself, and last of all, like the angel's breath on the pool
of Bethesda, the birth of their child, their little Roma —
Roma, the healer of his heart — Roma, after the city of his
soul !

The train of his memories was interrupted by voices in the
street, and he drew the curtain of the window aside and
looked out. The snow had ceased to fall, and the moon was
shining; the leafless trees were casting their delicate black
shadows on the whitened ground, and the yellow light of a
lantern on the opposite angle of the square showed where a
group of lads were singing a Christmas carol.

"While shepherds watched their flocks by night, all seated on
the ground,
The angel of the Lord came down, and glory shone around."

Doctor Roselli closed the curtain, put out the lamp,
touched with his lips the forehead of the sleeping boy, and.
went to bed.

PAKT ONE
THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE

TWENTY YEARS LATER
I

It was the last day of the last month of the last year of
the century. In a Bull proclaiming a Jubilee the Pope had
called his faithful children to Rome, and they had come from
all quarters of the globe. To salute the coming century, and
to dedicate it, in pomp and solemn ceremony, to the return of
the world to the Holy Church, one and universal, the people
gathered in the great Piazza of St. Peter.

The sergeants of police said that some had passed the
night there. Through the mist of early morning their spec-
tral images glimmered in a sea of shadows. As light breathed
through the haze you could define first a figure and then a face,
in a waste of indistinguishable shapes. Through the chill
air coming off the Campagna you could hear the sharp crackle
of carriage wheels on the Roman pavement as the people
came up the side streets. The white sheets of vapour began
to roll away, and silently out of the east rose the great drowsy
disc of red. Then from some unseen rock above a mighty
bell began, and it was followed after a moment by a grand
pealing of all the bells of Rome.

As day dawned the growing light showed a prodigious
circle. It was like a mountain tarn whose vast amplitude has
been swirled out of the rocks by the wash of ages. On either
side the smooth round walls, and in front a gigantic glacier,
with two peaks and a round forehead in the sky, and giant
boulders down below. You thought you could hear the waters
as they moved in the mountain breeze, and were fed by
streams that flowed into the mighty basin.

The light came in its leaden greyness, and the glacier
2 «

10 THE ETERNAL CITY

was the great Basilica of St. Peter, the round walls were the
embracing arms of the Colonnade of Bernini, the two peaks
were the two clock towers, the giant boulders were the statues
of apostles with drawn swords, the obelisks with their in-
scriptions and the fountains throwing up spray; and the
noise of the waters was the murmur of an immense mass of
people already crowded into the square.

The sun shot its first beam on to the golden cross of the
Basilica, and it glistened in the sunrise like the topmost
peaks at Chamounix, and the broad blaze came down the blue
dome and over the white walls and rested on the round sea
of human faces.

The balcony of St. Peter's was shaded by a wide awning,
and the portico was adorned with red and gold hangings,
draped around a large representation of the arms of the Pope.
At the top of the great steps, which were strewn with sand
and sprinkled with sprigs of box, a space was kept clear by a
cordon of infantry.

Two double lines of troops traversed the square below.
One of them stretched in a half circle from a bronze gate
under the colonnade on the right to an arch beneath the clock
tower on the left. This was intended for the procession of
the Pope as it came out of the Vatican and passed into St.
Peter's, and it was kept clear like the empty bed of a
dammed-up stream. The other line of troops crossed the
square diagonally from the street in front of the Basilica to
the central entrance, and this was like a river that was some-
times rippling, sometimes rushing, but always running.

When the clock struck seven the doors were opened, and
the human tide began to rise up the steps and to flow into the
church. First came the pilgrims from distant places, a mixed
and motley company. Now a band of bronzed creatures, sul-
len-eyed and heavy-featured, and clad in sheepskins and
leather. Then a group of bright-eyed Neapolitan women with
I'ed handkerchiefs on their heads, strings of coral around
their necks and silver pins in their blue black hair. And
then a troop of poor men in red flannel cloaks, or of women,
chiefly old, in black dresses and lace veils. With each batch
walked a clerical guide, sometimes a rustic Monsignor wearing
the broad violet waist-band over his black cassock, but gen-
erally a simple priest, unkempt, unshaven, with shaggy
beaver battered by the rain, and heavy shoes stained by
the soil.

THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE H

Toward eight o'clock came files of men and boys, carrying
banners with inscriptions in yellow and gold. One such file
was a deputation of French working-men, come to pay their
devotion to the Holy Father and proclaim him the friend of
democracy and the Workmen's Pope.

As the clock struck nine the stream rising up the steps to
the portico was being traversed by gentlemen in dress coats
and by ladies in long black veils, wearing jewels and bril-
liants. Dividing them, in companies of eight and ten, came
the priests of the future, the students of the papal colleges,
in sashes of red and blue and green, and in one case cassocks
of scarlet, which splashed the steps like a stream of blood.
Then came little knots of nuns, in black hoods that hid their
downcast faces; and last of all, in gorgeous uniforms of every
kind and blazing with decorations, the diplomatic corps ac-
credited to the Vatican.

By this time there was an immense concourse within St.
Peter's, yet the mass of crowded and mixed humanity was
still larger outside. The people now covered the piazza round
and round from side to side, except where the black and red
carabineers and the black and blue police on foot and on
horseback kept places clear in case of a crush.

The vast mountain tarn seemed to have been casting up
its spray on to its sides, for every window and balcony round
about was decorated with gay trappings and swarming with
faces.

The Jubilee was to be a sacred one, but it could not be
said that this crowd conveyed a universal sense of solemnity
and awe. There were the girls who dance the Tarantella at
the hotels, gleesome little maidens with figures just rounding
into sensuous womanhood; there were the models in short
skirts and bright stockings who wait for artists on the Span-
ish steps, and the girls of the people with their dark Oriental
mischievous eyes. Then there were monks in black, brown
and white, each with his big, ungainly umbrella; a priest
with the face of an old woman, but helpless-looking and un-
tidy, because he has no woman to take care of him; a smart
ofiicer of the Italian army in his blue cloak and with his
matronly wife beside him; a greasy seller of sherbet and yel-
low beans ; a screamer crying " La Vera Roma ; " a pick-
pocket with the thick bull-neck of the Trasteverine — the
Roman " cockney " from across the Tiber — getting up panics
and slanting off at sight of the police; and the beggars with

12 THE ETERNAL CITY

their various deformities, hobbling, and shuffling, and whin-
ing : " A penny for the love of God ! For the blessed Virgin's
sake! For Christ's sake, and may God bless you and the
Madonna and all the Saints ! "

Last of all in this mixed and motley assembly there was
the vast army of foreigners, the forestieri, thick as stars on
a full-starred night, English, American, French, Russian,
Spanish, all who regard Kome as an artistic play-ground, and
come for sights— religious sights most of all. In that wide
cosmopolis you might hear every tongue of Europe, and every
tone of English, from the coo of the pretty pink-and-white
English miss in her sailor hat to the bugle note of the bright
American girl with her red Baedeker and her short skirt.

All were there, all languages, all peoples, all ages, the East
and the West, the past and the present, called back to the
Eternal City that was born of the loins of the world. Nations
sink and rise, but humanity is immortal, and that spectacle
of beauty and majesty under the glorious light of heaven —
St. Peter's, the people, Rome, on one spot at one moment —
seemed like a flashing glance of the face of God.

n

Boys and women were climbing up every possible eleva-
tion, and a bright-faced girl who had conquered a high place
on the base of the obelisk was chattering down at a group of
her friends who were listening to their cicerone.

" Yes, that is the Vatican," said the guide, pointing to a
square building at the back of the colonnade, " and the apart-
ments of the Pope are those on the third floor, just on the
level of the Loggia of Raphael. The Cardinal Secretary of
State used to live in the rooms below, opening on the grand
staircase that leads from the Court of Damascus. There's
a private way up to the Pope's apartment, and a secret passage
to the Castle of St. Angelo."

" Say, has the Pope got that secret passage still ? "

"No, sir. When the Castle went over to the King the
connection with the Vatican was cut off. Ah, everything is
changed since those days! The Pope used to go to St.
Peter's surrounded by his Cardinals and Bishops, to the roll
of drums and the roar of cannon. All that is over now. The
present Pope is trying to revive the old condition seemingly.

THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 13

but what can he do? Even the Bull proclaiming the Jubilee
laments the loss of the temporal power, which would have per-
mitted him to renew the enchantments of the Holy Qity."

" Tell him it's just lovely as it is," said the girl on the
obelisk, " and when the illuminations begin . . ."

" Say, friend," said her parent again, " I'll get you to give
me the inwardness of this business. Kome belonged to the
Pope — yes ? Then the Italians came in and took -it and made
it the capital of Italy — so ? "

" Just so, and ever since then the Holy Father has been a
prisoner in the Vatican, going into it as a cardinal and com-
ing out of it as a corpse, and to-day will be the first time a
Pope has set foot in the streets of Rome ! "

" My ! And shall we see him in his prison clothes ? "

" Lilian Martha ! Don't you know enough for that ? Per-
haps you expect to see his chains and a straw of his bed
in the cell? The Pope is a king and has a court — that's the
way I am figuring it."

" True, the Pope is a sovereign still, and he is surrounded
by his ofiicers of state — Cardinal Secretary, Majordomo,
Master of Ceremonies, Steward, Chief of Police, Swiss
Guards, Noble Guard and Palatine Guard, as v>'ell as the
Papal Guard who live in the garden and patrol the precincts
night and day. He receives, too, the same as ever — Cardinal
Secretary every morning at ten — Majordomo first and third
Fridays — Master of Ceremonies once a week — there's a list
of them all on the walls of the Papal ante-camera, with the
days and hours of their audiences."

" Then where the nation . . . prisoner, you say ? "

" Prisoner indeed ! If ot even able to look out of his
windows on to this piazza on the 20th of September without
the risk of insult and outrage — and Heaven knows what will
happen when he ventures out to-day ! "

" Well ! this goes clear ahead of me ! "

Beyond the outer cordon of troops many carriages were
drawn up in positions likely to be favourable for a view of
the procession. In one of these sat a Frenchman in a coat
covered with medals, a florid, fiery-eyed old soldier with
bristling white hair. Standing by his carriage door was a
typical young Roman, fashionable, faultlessly dressed, pallid,
with strong lower jaw, dark watchful eyes, twirled-up mous-
tache and cropped black mane.

" Ah, yes," said the old Frenchman. " Much water has

14 THE ETERNAL CITY

run under the bridge since then, sir. Liberty? License you
mean, sir. The law lets people do as they please these days.
Only itself to blame if they petition and palaver and run
away with everything. Changed since I was here? Rome?
You're right, sir. Wasn't in the hands of the invading army
then, and its revenues hadn't gone into their corrupt coffers.
' When Kome falls, falls the world ; ' but it can alter for all
that, and even this square has seen its transformations.
Holy Office stands where it did, the yellow building behind
there, but this palace, for instance — this one with the people
in the balcony . . ."

The Frenchman pointed to the travertine walls of a
prison-like house on the farther side of the piazza. The lower
windows were barred across like so many iron cages, and at
the entrance to a courtyard, which gave a glimpse of green
within, stood a door-porter in red and brown livery and
cocked hat, holding a staff tipped with silver and tasselled
with gold.

" Do you know whose palace that is ? "

" Baron Bonelli's, President of the Council and Minister
of the Interior."

" Precisely ! But do you know whose palace it used
to be?"

" Belonged to the English Wolsey, didn't it, in the days
when he wanted the Papacy ? "

" Belonged in my time to the father of the Pope, sir — old
Baron Leone ! "

" Leone ! That's the family name of the Pope, isn't it ? "

" Yes, sir, and the old Baron was a banker and a cripple.
I saw him once at this very door. He was getting out of his
carriage swathed in furs, and a dozen stalwart servants were
ducking and dipping at his feet. ' Signor Baron ! ' ' Will
your Excellency be pleased to walk ? ' One foot in the grave,
and all his hopes centred in his son. ' My son,' he used to
say, 'will be the richest nian in Rome, some day; richer than
all their Roman princes, and it will be his own fault if he
doesn't make himself Pope. ' "

" He has, apparently."

" Xot that way, though. When his father died, he sold
up everything, and having no relations looking to him, he
gave away every penny to the poor. That's how the old
banker's palace fell into the hands of the Prime Minister of
Italy — an infidel, an Antichrist."

THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 15

" So the Pope is a good man, is he ? "

" Good man, sir ? He's not a man at all, he's an angel !
Only two aims in life — the glory of the Church and the wel-
fare of the rising generation. Gave away half his inheritance
founding homes all over the world for poor boys. Boys —
that's the Pope's tender point, sir! Tell him anything tender
about a boy and he breaks up like an old swordcut."

The eyes of the young Roman were straying away, from
the Frenchman to a rather shabby single-horse hackney car-
riage which had just come into the square and taken up its
position in the shadow of the grim old palace. It had one
occupant only — a man in a soft black hat. He was quite
without a sign of a decoration, but his arrival had created a
general commotion, and all faces were turning toward him.

" Listen ! " said the old soldier, " I'll tell you something,
and then you'll know Pius the Tenth, and if people say dif-
ferent you can swear they lie. My name is De Raymond, and
I was a captain in the Papal Zouaves. Yes, sir, wounded the
day the Italians came into Rome, and the wound has never
healed. My good wife was at home at Versailles, when the
telegram reached her that I was down and Rome was lost;
she went to bed, and that same day our boy was born. It
killed her, God rest her soul, but before she died she called
the priest and the child was baptized."

The young Roman was scarcely listening. His eyes were
on the man in the soft black hat and he was hearing the name
" David Rossi ! " which rippled over the surface of the crowd
like the first morning breeze over a mere.

" Well, sir, it was twenty years afterward when I wanted
my son to be made one of the Pope's N^oble Guard. Only a
hundred francs a month, but two of them are on duty with
the Holy Father always. Just three vacancies, sir, and I ap-
plied a day too late. ' Let me see the Holy Father himself,' I
said. * ISTo use,' said the Under-Secretary; 'the nominations
are made and the Holy Father will be vexed.' ' Only let me
see him,' I said, and he did. He was right, though — the Holy
Father was very angry. ' Monsignor,' he said, ' why didn't you
tell him the nominations were made ? ' 'I did, your Holiness,
but he insisted on seeing you himself,' and then the Pope grew
pale and rose to dismiss me. ' Wait a minute. Holy Father,'
I said. ' Do you remember the story of Phinehas's wife in the
Book of Samuel ? ' ' What of it ? ' ' She called her son Icha-
bod, because his father was killed in battle, and because the

16 THE ETERNAL CITY

same day the ark of God was taken.' * Well ? ' * Do you remem-
ber what day this is, Holy Father ? It is the anniversary of the
day the Italians came in at Porta Pia and the Pope lost the
Holy City. I was wounded that day, and the wound has never
healed ; and my boy was born that day, too, and his mother, who
is dead, called him Ichabod, because the ark of God was taken
and the glory was departed from Israel.' "

" And what did the Pope say ? "

" ' Monsignor,' " he said, " ' strike out any name you please,
and write Ichabod de Raymond.' "

The fiery old Frenchman's throat was thick and his eyes
were wet, but the young Roman said in a dry voice :

" Do you happen to know who that is ? That man in the
cab under the balcony full of ladies ? Can it be David Rossi ? "

" David Rossi, the anarchist ? "

" Some people call him so. Do you know him ? "

" No — not at all — certainly not — I only know his writings
in the newspapers."

" Ah, yes, of course ! His articles in the Sunrise are quoted
all over Europe, and he must be as well known in Paris as in
Rome."

" I know nothing about the man except that he is an enemy
of his Holiness."

" He intends to present a petition to the Pope this morning,
nevertheless."

" Impossible ! "

" Haven't you heard of it ? These are his followers with the
banners and badges."

He pointed to the line of working-men, who had ranged
themselves about the cab, with banners inscribed variously,
" Garibaldi Club," " Mazzini Club," " Republican Federation,"
and " Republic of Man."

" Your friend Antichrist," tipping a finger over his shoul-
der in the dii'ection of the palace, " has been taxing bread to
build more battleships, and Rossi has risen against him. ' Tax
anything else you please,' he says, ' but don't tax what tlie peo-
ple live upon. It's wrong in principle, tyrannical in practice,
and there's no protest but the knife.' "

" Humph ! They look as if there might be knives enough
lurking in their hip pockets."

" So failing in the press, in Parliament, and at the Quirinal,
he is coming to the Pope to pray of him to let the Church play
its old part of intermediary between the poor and the oppressed

THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 17

— in short, to protest against the militarism that is going on in
Europe, and thus stay a worse plague than has eaten into the
vitals of humanity since St. Michael sheathed his sword over
old St. Angelo, you know."

" Preposterous ! "

"So?"

" To whom is the Pope to protest ? To the King of Italy
who robbed him of his Holy City ? Pretty thing to go down on
your knees to the brigand who has stripped you ! And at whose
bidding is he to protest? At the bidding of his bitterest
enemy ? Pshaw ! "

" You persist that David Rossi is an enemy of the Pope ? "

" The deadliest enemy the Pope has in the world."

in

The subject of the Frenchman's denunciation looked harm-
less enough as he sat in his hackney carriage under the shadow
of old Baron Leone's gloomy palace. A first glance showed a
man of thirty-odd years, tall, slightly built, inclined to stoop,
with a long, clean-shaven face, large dark eyes and dark hair
which covered the head in short curls of almost African pro-
fusion. But a second glance revealed all the characteristics
that give the hand-to-hand touch with the common people,
without which no man can hope to lead a great movement.

There was imagination and a latent sadness in the eyes,
which seemed usually to be looking at something beyond this
life; but there was power also in their dark lashes when they
fell on things that were near. There was tenderness and sen-
timent in the mobile mouth, but firmness and decision as well ;
and the whole expression of the dark brown face, which was
subdued, a little jaded, very kindly and hviman, and with a
tired smile of much sweetness, was that of a man with great
and consuming heart, in whom sympathy with humanity must
be a fiery furnace and hope of its redemption a burning bush.

From the moment of David Rossi's arrival there was a
tingling movement in the air, and from time to time people
approached and spoke to him, when the tired smile struggled
through the jaded face and then slowly died away. After a
while, as if to subdue the sense of personal observation, he took
a pen and oblong notepaper and began to write on his knees.

Meantime the quick-eyed, facile crowd around him, the

18 THE ETERNAL CITY

brilliant, wondrous, patient Latin race — big children such as
Shakespeare loved — beguiled the tedium of waiting with good-
humoured chaff. One great creature with a shaggy mane and a
sanguinary voice came up, bottle in hand, saluted the downcast
head with a mixture of deference and familiarity, then climbed
to the box-seat beside the driver, and in deepest bass began the
rarest mimicry. lie was a true son of the people, and under an
appearance of ferocity he hid the heart of a child. To look at
him you could hardly help laughing, and the laughter of the
crowd at his daring dashes showed that he was the privileged
pet of everybody. Only at intervals the downcast head was
raised from its writing, and a quiet voice of warning said :

" Bruno ! "

Then the shaggy head on the box-seat slewed round and
bobbed downward with an apologetic gesture, and ten seconds
afterwards plunged into wilder excesses.

" Pshaw ! " mopping with one hand his forehead under his
tipped-up billicock, and holding the bottle with the other.
" It's hot ! Dog of a Government, it's hot, I say ! Have a drink,
brother? What's it saying in the spelling-book — when one
poor man helps another poor man God laughs. Good for pel-
lagra now the Government has taxed the salt. Mr. Carabineer,
will you do me the pleasure ? " offering the bottle to a military
policeman. " No ? Of course not ! My mistake, sir ; forgot
old Vampire was looking at you," indicating with a lurch
of the thumb over his shoulder the palace of the Prime
Minister behind him. " ' Another anarchist plot ! Attempt
to murder a policeman ! ' Never mind ! here's to the exports
of Italy, brother; and may the Government be the first of
them."

" Bruno ! "

" Excuse me, sir ; the tongue breaks no bones, sir ! All
Governments are bad, and the worst Government is the best.
Look at those ladies in the balcony now. They're thinking of
nothing but their pretty hats, bless them. There's a dear little
jewel with a star in it; put it up at auction and it would fetch
a king's ransom. My wife hasn't got one much better than
that, and my old mother is going about in her red cotton hand-
kerchief. Well, well, the rich ye have always with ye. But
the parts are to be reversed in the next world — that's what
Giuseppe's donkey says when they give him the stick."

" Yet you thought you had got the millennium when you
got the Statute," said a thick voice from the crowd.

THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 19

" So we did, sonny, but we were like the Dutchman's dog.
* Schneider,' said the Dutchman, ' you are free.' * But where
can I go ? ' said Schneider. ' You are free,' said the Dutchman.
' But what can I eat ? ' ' You are free, I tell you.' Next day
Schneider was found dead in a ditch. ' He can't blame me ; I
gave him his liberty, didn't I ? ' said the Dutchman."

" You ought to be ashamed of yourself — talking like that of
your king and country," said another choking voice.

" Hello ! It's Signor Paul Pry, the King's chief ostler. He's
got three hundred horses under him, and they live in clover.
Where he is well off, there's his country ? Don't go yet, Uncle
Paul! How's your old brother, who sleeps in the caves, and
lives on porridge and polenta ? "

The great clock of St. Peter's struck ten over the peals of
laughter.

" N'ot long now ! The Pope is as punctual as the stars.
Expect him at ten and he is never later than half-past one.
Look at that old clock winking ! Been winking up there
for three hundred years. Seen something in that time, eh,
brothers ? Has always the same face, though, whether it keeps
time for Boniface or Pius — the old sinner or the old saint —
and goes on wagging its tail whatever they're doing down
below."

" You are only a priest-eater, and you ought to be put down
— you and all your kidney — and you would, too, if the Pope
came into his own."

" Hello ! Who's it now ? Mr. Pulcinello, the Pope's barber !
Gets eighty francs a month for coming from the Condotti every
morning, and shaves the Holy Father free."

" If it wasn't for the Pope you would all be worse off, and
grass would grow in the streets of Rome."

" Good change too. Only weeds there now, sonny."

" Bruno ! "

A feeble old man was at that moment crushing his way up
to the cab. Seeing him approach, David Rossi rose and held
out his hand. The old man took it, but did not speak.

" Did you wish to speak to me, father ? "

" I can't yet," said the old man, and his voice shook and his
eyes were moist.

David Rossi stepped out of the cab, and with gentle force,
against many protests, put the old man in his place.

" I come from Carrara, sir, and when I go home and tell
them I've seen David Rossi, and spoken to him, they won't

20 THE ETERNAL CITY

believe me. ' He sees the future clear,' they say, * as an al-
manack made by God.' "

Just then there was a commotion in the crowd, an im-
perious voice cried, " Clear out," and the next instant David
Rossi, who was standing by the step of his cab, was all but run
down by a magnificent equipage with two high-stepping horses
and a fat English coachman in livery of scarlet and gold.

His dark face darkened for a moment with some powerful
emotion, then resumed its kindly aspect, and he turned back to
the old man without looking at the occupant of the carriage.

It was a lady. She was tall, with a bold sweep of fulness in
figure, which was on a large scale of beauty. Her hair, which
was abundant and worn full over the forehead, was raven black
and glossy, and it threw off the sunshine that fell on her face.
Her complexion had a golden tint, and her eyes, which were
violet, had a slight recklessness of expression. Her carriage
drew up at the entrance of the palace, and the porter, with the
silver-headed staif, came running and bowing to receive her.
She rose to her feet with a consciousness of many eyes upon
her, and with an unabashed glance she looked around on the
crowd.

There was a sulky silence among the people, almost a sense
of antagonism, and if anybody had cheei'ed, there might have
been a counter demonstration. At the same time, there was a
certain daring in that marked brow and steadfast smile which
seemed to say that if anybody had hissed she would have stood
her ground.

ITot the type that painters paint for their ideal of sinless
and stainless women, not the Madonna, biit a superb being in
that first full bloom of womanhood which is the most glorious
creation of God.

She lifted from the blue silk cushions of the carriage a half-
clipped black poodle with a bow of blue ribbon on its forehead,
tucked it under her arm, stepped down to the street, and passed
into the courtyard, leaving an odour of ottar of roses behind
her.

Only then did the people speak.

" Donna Eoma ! "

The name seemed to pass over the crowd in a breathless
whisper, soundless, supernatural, like the flight of a bat in the
dark.

THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 21

IV

The Baron had invited certain of his friends to witness the
Pope's procession from the windows and balconies of his palace
overlooking the piazza, and they had begun to arrive as early as
half-past nine. The first to come were the American Ambas-
sador, General Potter, an elderly soldier, with a fluent tongue,
but a stiff lower jaw, and Mrs. Potter, a stout lady with familiar
manners. Immediately behind them came the English Am-
bassador, Sir Evelyn Wise, with Lady Wise, younger, smarter,
more reserved, with the indescribable air that belongs to the
diplomatic service.

In the green courtyard they were received by the porter in
the cocked hat, on the dark stone staircase by lackeys in knee-
breeches and yellow stockings, in the outer hall, intended for
coats and hats, by more lackeys in powdered wigs, and in the
first reception-room, gorgeously decorated in the yellow and
gold of the middle ages, by Felice, in a dress coat, the Baron's
solemn personal servant, who said, in sepulchral tones :

" The Baron's excuses. Excellency ! Engaged in the Coun-
cil-room with some of the Ministers, but expects to be out pres-
ently. Sit in the Loggia, Excellency ? "

" So our host is holding a Cabinet Council, General ? " said
the English Ambassador.

" A sort of scratch council, seemingly. Something that
concerns the day's doings, I guess, and is urgent and important.
You know him, of course. Lady Wise ? "

The wife of the English Ambassador knew the Baron very
slightly. Her husband was newly accredited to the Quirinal,
and everything in Rome was new to them.

" A great man. General, if half one hears about him is
true."

"Great?" said the American. "Yes, and no. Sir Evelyn,
according as you regard him. In the opinion of some of his
followers the Baron Bonelli is the greatest man in the country
— greater than the King himself — and a statesman too big for
Italy. One of those commanding personages who carry every-
thing before them, so that when they speak even monarchs are
bound to obey. Certainly a man of great talents, indomitable
pride, immense courage, and enormous wealth. Has the advan-
tage of noble birth, too, and antiquity of race. The idol of the
army as well, and by the power and prestige that gives him he
seems to rule Parliament and even the King. Indeed the King

22 THE ETERNAL CITY

is said to have professed willingness to see him made Dictator,
and Parliament seems ready to proclaim him Minister for life.
That's one view of his picture. Sir Evelyn."

" And the other view ? "

General Potter glanced in the direction of a door hung with
curtains, from which there came at intervals the deadened
drumming of voices, and then he said:

" A man of implacable temper and imperious soul, the in-
carnation of Caesarism and every pagan ideal of government.
A Minister who is the head rather than the hand of the King,
and owes his favour with his sovereign to the accident that the
King is weak and superstitious, and almost afraid to live in the
Quirinal because it was the house of the priests, while he is
strong and sceptical, and would sleep soundly in the chair of
St. Peter itself. Like Napoleon, a man with a deep contempt
for public opinion, for representative government and the
rights of man, and, like Voltaire, an infidel of hard and cynical
spirit and an open enemy of the Church."

" In short, according to his enemies, a ferocious tyrant ? "

" You've figured it up. Sir Evelyn," said the American.
" The people don't know what they want, and are at the mercy
of the biggest liar that comes along. The only value of Parlia-
ments is to criticise the acts originated by those who are ahead
of them ! The King is the symbol of unity and the ark of
salvation, and what every country requires is a central power,
a strong monarchy, which has no interest but the interest
of the whole. The King, the King, always the King, except
when it's the army, the army, the army ! "

" A champion of militarism, of course ? "

" Militarism is his mania, and his ideal is to make Italy,
whether alone or by alliance, once more master of the world by
force of arms ; or, if that is impossible, to make Rome in its
resurrection the diplomatic centre of Europe."

" And the people ? "

" They hate him, of course, for the heavy burden of taxation
with which he is destroying the nation in his attempt to build
it up."

" And the clergy, and the Court, and the aristocracy ? "

" The clergy fear him, the Court detests him, and the
Roman aristocracy are rancorously hostile to him."

" Yet he rviles them all, nevertheless ? "

" Yes, sir, with a rod of iron — people. Court, princes. Parlia-
ment, King as well — and seems to have only one unsatisfied

THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 23

desire, to break up the last remaining rights of the Vatican
and rule the old Pope himself."

The ladies laughed. " And yet he asks us to sit in his
balcony and look at the old Pope's procession ! "

" Perhaps because he intends it shall be the last we shall
ever see."

" The Princess Bellini and Don Camillo Murelli," said
Felice's sepulchral voice from the door.

An elderly aristocratic beauty wearing nodding -white
plumes, a little, soft, blonde dahlia of a woman, slightly over-
blown, came in with a pallid young Roman noble dressed in the
English fashion, in a check tweed suit, having the bottom of
his trousers turned up and an eyeglass screwed into one eye.

" You come to church, Don Camillo ? "

" Heard it was a service which happened only once in a
hundred years, dear General, and thought it mightn't be con-
venient to come next time," said the young Roman.

" And you. Princess ! Come now, confess, is it the perfume
of the incense which brings you to the Pope's procession, or
the perfume of the promenaders ? "

" Nonsense, General ! " said the little woman, tapping the
American with the tip of her lorgnette. " Who comes to a
ceremony like this to say her prayers? Nobody whatever, and
if the Holy Father himself were to say . . ."

"Oh! oh!"

" I agree with the Princess," said Don Camillo. " Who
can take a Miserere solemnly while the hymn of life is singing
in the soul? Who can think of the mysteries of a Divine
passion while all the mysteries of human passion are evoked by
this radiant morning and the smiles of that happy crowd?
Look!"

They walked to the balcony which opened off the room, and
a murmur came up to them like that of the long waves of the
Atlantic to passengers on a ship, at sea.

" Is it the Miserere or the mise-en-scene which brings them
to this spectacle? "

" Which reminds me," said the little dahlia, " where is
Donna Roma ? "

" Yes, indeed, where is Donna Roma ? " said the young
Roman.

" When was Donna Roma absent from a reception given
by Baron Bonelli ? " said the dahlia, with a significant trill of
laughter.

24 THE ETERNAL CITY

" Who is Donna Eoma ? " said the Englishman.

" Santo Die ! the man doesn't know Donna Roma ! "

The white plumes bobbed up, the powdered face fell back,
the little twinkling eyes closed, and the company laughed and
seated themselves in the Loggia.

" Donna Roma, dear sir," said the young Roman, " is a
type of the fair lady who has appeared in the history of every
nation since the days of Helen of Troy — one of those exquisite
creatures whose lovely eyes and rosy mouth exercise a function
in the state."

" Poor state ! " laughed the Princess.

" In the orchard of the nation she is the flower of flowers.
Wherever she goes a perfume of adoration follows her, and
everybody makes way for her as for a sovereign. In the world
of beauty and elegance through which she moves she is a queen,
and as such she makes her own manners and her own morality."

" Poor morality ! "

" Has a woman of this type, then, identified herself with
the story of Rome at a moment like the present?" said the
Englishman.

The young Roman smiled, bowed his head aside and opened
his arms, palms inward, as if playing an invisible accordion.

" Why did the Prime Minister appoint so-and-so ? — Donna
Roma! Why did he dismiss such-and-such? — Donna Roma!
What feminine influence imposed upon the nation this or that ?
— Donna Roma ! Through whom come titles, decorations, hon-
ours ? — Donna Roma ! Who pacifies intractable politicians
and makes them the devoted followers of the Ministers? —
Donna Roma ! Who organises the great charitable committees,
collects funds and distributes them? — Donna Roma! Always,
always Donna Roma ! "

" So the day of the petticoat politician is not over in Italy
yet?"

"Over? It will only end with the last trump. But dear
Donna Roma is hardly that. With her light play of grace and
a whole artillery of love in her lovely eyes, she only intoxicates
a great capital and " — with a glance toward the curtained door
— " takes captive a great Minister."

" Just that," and the white plumes bobbed up and down.

" Hence she defies conventions, and no one dares to question
her actions on her scene of gallantry."

" Drives a pair of thoroughbreds in the Corso every after-
noon, and threatens to buy an automobile."

THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 25

" Has debts enough to sink a ship, but floats through life
as if she had never known what it was to be poor."

"And has she?"

The voices from behind the curtained door were louder than
usual at that moment, and the young Roraan drew his chair
closer.

" Donna Roma, dear sir, was the only child of Prince
Volonna. Nobody mentions him now, so speak of him in
a whisper. The Volonnas were an old papal family, holding
ofiice in the Pope's household, but the young prince of the
house was a Liberal, and his youth was cast in the stormy
days of the middle of the century. As a son of the revolution
he was expelled from Rome for conspiracy against the papal
Governraent, and when the Pope went out and the King came
in, he was still a republican, conspiring against the reigning
sovereign, and, as such, a rebel. Meanwhile he had wandered
over Europe, going from Geneva to Berlin, from Berlin to
Paris. Finally he took refuge in London, the home of all the
homeless, and there he was lost and forgotten. Some say he
practised as a doctor, passing under another name, others say
that he spent his life as a poor man in your Italian quarter of
Soho, nursing rebellion among the exiles from his own country.
Only one thing is certain ; late in life he came back to Italy as
a conspirator — enticed back, his friends say — was arrested on
a charge of attempted regicide, and deported to the island of
Elba without a word of public report or trial."

" Domicilio Coatto — a devilish and insane device," said the
American Ambassador. " Supposed to be imposed only upon
those who have grown up in vice, are intolerant of ties, careless
of the law, and a permanent danger to society."

" Was that the case with Prince Volonna ? "

" Just so," said the Roman. " But ten or twelve years after
he disappeared from the scene a beautiful girl was brought to
Rome and presented as his daughter."

"Donna Roma?"

" Yes. Her youth and loveliness alone would have been
enough to arrest attention in a city devoted to beauty, but she
had the further advantage of being presented by the most
courted man in the kingdom."

" Baron Bonelli?"

" The Prime Minister of United Italy ! It turned out that
he was a distant kinsman of the refugee, and going to London
he discovered that the Prince had married an English wife
3

26 THE ETERNAL CITY

during the period of his exile, and left a friendless daughter.
He found the child at last — Heaven knows how or where;
rumour says that the squalid story of the early life of your
Lady Hamilton is an idyl compared with Donna Roma's ad-
ventures."

" Madonna mia ! " said the little Princess, and agafn the
white plumes bobbed up and down.

" Out of pity for a great name he undertook the guardian-
ship of the girl, sent her to school in France, and finally
brought her to Rome, and established her in an apartment on
the Triuita de' Monti, under the care of an old aunt, poor as
herself, and once a great coquette, but now a faded rose which
has long since seen its June."

"And then?"

" Then ? " — once more the playing of the invisible accordion
— " Ah, who shall say what then, dear friend ? We can only
judge by what appears — Donna Roma's elegant figure, dressed
in silk by the best milliners Paris can provide, queening it over
half the women of Rome."

" And now her aunt is conveniently bedridden," said the
little. Princess, " and she goes about alone like an English-
woman; and to account for her extravagance, while everybody
knows her father's estate was confiscated, she is by way of being
a sculptor, and has set up a gorgeous studio, full of nymphs
and cupids and limbs."

" Where," said the young Roman, " she is visited and flat-
tered by all the great ones of the earth, and flatters them in
return with a pretty mouth which is accustomed at once to the
sweetness of love and the hardness of fate."

" And without an atom of talent she gets commissions for
which the first sculptors in Italy would give their ears."

" And all by virtue of: — what ? " said the Englishman.

" By virtue of being " — the invisible accordion again —
" the good friend of the Baron Bonelli ! "

" Meaning by that ? "

" ISTothing — and everything ! " said the Princess with
another trill of laughter.

" In Rome, dear friend," said Don Camillo, " a woman can
do anything she likes as long as she can keep people from talk-
ing about her."

" Oh, you never do that apparently," said the Englishman.
" But why doesn't the Baron make her a Baroness and have
done with the danger ? "

THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 27

" Because the Baron has a Baroness already."

" A wife living ? "

" Living and yet dead ! "

The voices beyond the curtained doorway were audible
again, and those who knew the Baron recognised the sound of a
blow on the chest, which was a habit of his when angry or
excited.

" A sad story. Sir Evelyn," said the young Roman. " Wife
married against her will — a girl, a child, with light curls and
pensive blue eyes — weeps bitterly on her wedding-day, but
afterwards consoles herself with a young officer, who, like her-
self, is fond of dancing. One day she appears at a masked ball
as a Bacchante — white tunic, bare arms, and clinging robes
that barely conceal her limbs. Dances with her young officer
until midnight, when her husband comes out with her wraps,
and without a word they get into the carriage. The drive is
long and dark — ' Where are we going ? ' she asks, and he an-
swers : ' I've given my orders ! ' At last she gets out trembling
and in terror at his ancestral home, a country castle of un-
known age in the Alban hills. ' This is to be your residence for
the rest of your life,' he says. In less than a year she is a hope-
less imbecile and he has come back to Rome and the world."

"Terrible!"

" But why do these little thoughtless things run up
against men like that ? " says the Princess.

" What you tell me about Donna Roma inclines me to think
that she is more sinned against than sinning," said the English-
man. " I dare say the Baron, like most public men in the East,
has only the Eastern — may I say the scriptural ? — idea of wom-
an, an accessory to his political position. Roma ! A name like
music. Born in England, you say? Probably in the poor
quarter of Soho. Perhaps a British subject still ! In that case
she is a protegee of mine in one sense, and if I can ever be of
use to her ..."

The little white plumes were dancing above the little gleam-
ing eyes.

" Another conquest for dear Roma ! Well, well ! all tastes
are tastes ! "

The curtain parted over the inner doorway, and three gen-
tlemen came out. The first was a tall, spare man, about fifty
years of age, with an intellectual head, features cut clear and

28 THE ETERNALi CITY

hard like granite, glittering eyes under overhanging brows,
black moustaches turned up at the ends, and iron-grey hair
cropped very short over a high forehead. It was the Baron
Bonelli. He was faultlessly dressed, had an air of distinction,
and made an instantaneous impression of force and power.

One of the two men with him had a face which looked as if
it had been carved by a sword or an adze, good and honest but
blunt and rugged ; and the other had a long, narrow head, like
the head of a hen — a lanky person with a certain mixture of
arrogance and servility in his expression.

The company rose from their places in the Loggia, and
there were greetings and introductions.

" Sir Evelyn Wise, gentlemen, the new British Ambassador
— General Morra, our Minister of War, Commendatore Angel-
elli, our Chief of Police. A thousand apologies, ladies! A
Minister of the Interior is one of the human atoms that live
from minute to minute and are always at the mercy of events.
You must excuse the Commendatore, gentlemen, he has urgent
duties outside."

The Prime Minister spoke with the lucidity and emphasis
of a man accustomed to command, and when Angelelli had
bowed all round he crossed with him to the door.

" If there is any suspicion of commotion, arrest the ring-
leaders at once. Let there be no trifling with disorder by
whomsoever begun. The first to offend must be the first to be
arrested, whether he wears cap or cassock."

" Good, your Excellency," and the Chief of Police went out.

" Commotion ! Disorder ! Madonna mia ! " cried the little
Princess.

" Calm yourselves, ladies. It's nothing ! Only it came to
the knowledge of the Government that the Pope's procession
this morning might be made the excuse for a disorderly dem-
onstration, and of course order must not be disturbed even
under the pretext of liberty and religion."

" So that was the public business which deprived us of
your society ? " said the Princess, with the sweetest twinkle
of her little eyes.

" And left my womanless house the duty of receiving you in
my absence," said the Baron, with a stately bow. Then in ex-
planation of his preceding words he added:

" The Pope, dear friends, is a good and venerable man, but
he shows disrespect and antagonism to all that Italy holds dear,
and it is the duty of the Government to see that this latest of

THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 29

his challenges is not turned to account by the enemies of the
King."

" Can it be possible that your Excellency apprehends anoth-
er Anarchist rising ? " said the Englishman.

" In Rome ? No ! A city of sleepy ones — of aristocratic
calm — of benevolent indifference. All the rest of the world
boils and bubbles, Rome smiles at everything,: it is the Eternal
City, with an unfailing faith in its own destinies. Its pro-
letariat— an inert mass; its nobles — chiefly idlers in the court
of their goddess, love; its middle class — the only one to be
reckoned with, and they live on the civil service, and therefore
support the law. All the same the Pope is a person of no coun-
try, he has forbidden his faithful ones to be patriots and take
part in the affairs of Italy; and it is possible for the man of
the piazza — the man in the street, as you say — to imagine that
this celebration at the end of the century strikes the note of a
sort of international Christian Socialism, in which the Holy
Father stands for the people against all kings and govern-
ments."

" Preposterous idea ! "

" Preposterous, indeed. Princess. A people's Pope is an
impossible being. A Pope who is tolerant of other faiths or
authority is illogical and absurd. The policy of priests known
as the Vatican must ever remain a mystery to the outer world,
but its propaganda is, and -always must be, anti-democratic. As
a matter of fact, the present Pope is the most determined up-
holder of the Vatican idea — the absolute rule of one man."

" And yet the priests of his own academy say he is a Liberal
Pope? " said the Englishman.

" The priests of my academy know better, your Excellency.
His life has been the last exposure of that silliest absurdity — a
people's Pontiff."

The Baron bowed his guests to their seats, stood with his
back to a wide ingle, and gave his version of the Pope's career.

" His father was a Roman banker — lived in this house,
indeed — and the young Leone was brought up in the Jesuit
schools and became a member of the ISToble Guard: handsojne,
accomplished, fond of society and social admiration, a man of
the world. This was a cause of disappointment to his father,
who had intended him for a great career in the Church. They
had their differences, and finally a mission was found for him
and he lived a year abroad. The death of the old banker
brought him back to Rome, and then, to the astonishment of

30 THE ETERNAL CITY

society, he renounced the world and took holy orders. Why he
gave up his life of gallantry did not appear . . ."

" Some affair of the heart, dear Baron," said the little
Princess, with another melting look.

" No, there was no talk of that kind, Princess, and not a
whisper of scandal. Some said the young soldier had married
in England, and lost his wife there, but nobody knew for cer-
tain. There was less doubt about his religious vocation, and
when by help of his princely inheritance he turned his mind to
the difficult task of reforming vice and ministering to the
lowest aspects of misery in the slums of Rome, society said he
had turnQd Socialist. His popularity with the people was un-
bounded, but in the midst of it all he begged to be removed to
London. There he set up the same enterprises, and tramped
the streets in search of his waifs and outcasts, night and day,
year in, year out, as if driven on by a consuming passion of pity
for the lost and fallen. In the interests of his health he was
called back to Rome — and returned here a white-haired man of
forty."

" Ah ! what did I say, dear Baron ? The apple falls near the
tree, you know ! "

" By this time he had given away millions, and the Pope
wished to make him President of his Academy of Noble
Ecclesiastics, but he begged to be excused. Then Apostolic
Delegate to the United States, and he prayed off. Then Nun-
cio to Spain, and he went on his knees to remain in the Cam-
pagna Romana, and do the work of a simple priest among a
simple people. At last, without consulting him, they made
him Bishop and afterwards Cardinal, and, on the death of the
Pope, he was Scrutator to the Conclave, and fainted when
he read out his own name as that of Sovereign Pontiff of the
Church."

The little Princess was wiping her eyes.

" Then — all the world was changed. The priest of the
future disappeared in a Pope who was the incarnation of the
past. Authority was now his watchword. What was the
highest authority on earth? The Holy See! Therefore, the
greatest thing for the world was the domination of the Pope.
If anybody should say that the power conferred by Christ on
his Vicar was only spiritual, let him be accursed! In Christ's
name the Pope was sovereign — supreme sovereign over the
bodies and souls of men- — acknowledging no superior, holding
the right to make and depose kings, and claiming to be su-

THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 31

preme judge over the consciences and crimes of all — the peas-
ant that tills the soil and the prince that sits on the throne ! "

" Tre-men-jous ! " said the American.

The company laughed, the Baron smiled. " It was the only-
logic, General Potter. The Pope was right on his own lines.
What happened? The pious chief of the Militia of the Cross
began to look forward to a day when he should be again sur-
rounded by an army. His predecessor had been content to
cavil and carp about the restoration of the temporal power of
the Pope in these poor little Papal States, but he dared to
dream of the revival of the Holy Roman Empire. The divine
rule of humanity from the chair of St. Peter ! A united world
worshipping at one altar! The tiara and the sword bound to-
gether again for the conquest of the world ! ^Nations to have
what Governments they pleased, but the Holy See to be over
everything ! Rome to be the court of arbitration for economic
as well as international differences, and the Vicar of Christ to
be all in all ! "

" A magnificent dream, your Excellency."

" Oh, I recognise its magnificence, Sir Evelyn — the magnifi-
cence of a mirage. The grandeur and amplitude of a concep-
tion that will be carried into execution when humanity is fed
on pap and put back into swaddling clothes. And to-day we
are to hear the first trumpet blast that calls on the Church to
return to the past and suffocate the twentieth century in the
mysticism of the tenth."

" All the same, it stirs my blood like a draught of wine,"
said the Englishman, " and I'm doubly anxious to see the man
who thought of it."

" You'll see more than that to-day," said the Baron ; " you'll
see the first failure of the Church in its claim to the heirship of
the world. You've heard of the order in the Pope's Bull about
the simultaneous salutation ? iS^o ? At noon the Pope will go
up to the balcony of St. Peter's and bless the nations of the
earth in one solemn benediction. Then all the church bells
will ring as signal to the four quarters of the globe of the dawn
of the new era. At that moment everything in Rome, in Italy,
in Europe, in Christendom — whatever the hour elsewhere — is
to come to a dead stand for thirty seconds, while all the world
salutes the coming century."

" Tremenjous ! " said the American again.

" Will it happen ? " said the Englishman.

The Baron laughed. " If it does it will strike a triumph for

32 THE ETERNAL CITY

the Church before the century begins, and some of us may as
well throw up the sponge."

" But, dear Baron," said the little Princess, " don't you
think there was an affair of the heart after all ? " and the little
plumes bobbed sideways.

The Baron laughed again. " The Pope seems to have half
of humanity on his side already — he has all the women appa-
rently."

All this time there had risen from the piazza into the room
a humming noise like the swarming of bees, but now a shrill
voice came up from the crowd with the sudden swish of a
rocket.

" Look out ! "

The young Roman, who had been looking over the balcony,
turned his head back and said :

" Donna Roma, Excellency."

But the Baron had gone from the room.

" He knew her carriage wheels apparently," said Don
Camillo, and the lips of the little Princess closed tight as if
from sudden pain.

VI

The return of the Baron was announced by the faint rustle
of a silk iinder-skirt and a light yet decided step keeping pace
with his own. He came back with Donna Roma on his arm,
and over his coolness and calm dignity he looked pleased and
proud.

The lady herself was brilliantly animated and happy. A
certain swing in her graceful carriage gave an instant impres-
sion of perfect health, and there was physical health also in the
brightness of her eyes and the gaiety of her expression. Her
face was lighted up by a smile which seemed to pervade her
whole person, and make it radiant with overflowing joy. A
vivacity which was at the same time dignified and spontaneous
appeared in every movement of her harmonious figure, and as
she came into the room there was a glow of health and happi-
ness that filled the air like the glow of sunlight through a veil
of soft red gauze.

" What a lovely face," whispered the wife of the English-
man.

" She's certainly beautiful, and I must allow she's well
dressed," said the little Princess.

THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 33

She wore a picture hat with ostrich plumes and a tight-
fitting astrachan coat with ermine lining and long flowing skirt
that threw out the grace of her full round form, and there was
a scarf of old lace about her neck which heightened the bril-
liancy of her violet eyes.

" I thought you admired her immensely," whispered the
Englishwoman again, and the little Princess replied:

" I ? What nonsense ! Do you think I'm a man, my dear ? "

She saluted the Baron's guests with a smile that fascinated
evei-ybody. There was a modified air of freedom about her, as
of one who has a right to make advances, a manner which capti-
vates all women in a queen and all men in a lovely woman.

"Ah, it is you. General Potter? And my dear General
Morra? Camillo mio!" (The Italian had rushed upon her
and kissed her hand.) " Sir Evelyn Wise, from England, isn't
it? I'm half an Englishwoman myself, and I'm very proud
of it."

Having thus gone through the men, her little battle of
coquetry ended in kisses for the women.

" Dearest Roma ! Enraptured to see you ! " said the
Princess.

" Charming, isn't she ? " said the American.

" I don't believe a word of that story," said the Englishman.

She had smiled frankly into Sir Evelyn's face, and he had
smiled back without knowing it. There was something con-
tagious about her smile. The rosy mouth with its pearly teeth
seemed to smile of itself, and the lovely eyes had their separate
art of smiling. Her lips parted of themselves, and then you felt
your own lips parting.

" Yes, there's some terrible charm about her," whispered
the American, " something beyond my comprehension."

" She has lived — that's all I see in it," replied the English-
man.

In a moment she had engaged everybody in a lively conver-
sation. Notwithstanding her natural gaiety and animation,
those who knew her saw that she was labouring under excite-
ment, and her joyous face seemed to say that the cause of it was
a happy one. She was constantly pulling the scarf of lace, and
sometimes it fell off her neck, and the young Roman picked it
up. Then she laughed, and to keep herself quiet she opened
her coat, over a dove-grey gown, and threw herself back in an
easy-chair, when there was a glimpse of a dainty shoe and a
blue-figured stocking.

34 THE ETERNAL CITY

" You were to have been busy with your fountain to-day
..." began the Baron.

" So I expected," she said in a voice that was soft yet full,
" and I did not think I should care to see any more spectacles
in Home, where the people are going in procession all the year
through — but what do you think has brought me ? "

" The artist's instinct, of course," said Don Camillo.

" No, just the woman's — to see a man ! "

" Lucky fellow, whoever he is ! " said the American. " He'll
see something better than you will, though," and then the
golden complexion gleamed up at him under a smile like sun-
shine.

" But who is he ? " said the young Roman.

" I'll tell you. Bruno — you remember Bruno ? "

" Bruno ! " cried the Baron.

" Oh ! Bruno is all right," she said, and, turning to the
others, " Bi-uno is my man in the studio — my marble pointer,
you know. Bruno Rocco, and nobody was ever so rightly
named. A big, shaggy, good-natured bear, always singing or
growling or laughing, and as true as steel. A terrible Liberal,
though; a socialist, an anarchist, a nihilist, and everything
that's shocking."

"Well?"

" Well, ever since I began my fountain . . . I'm making
a fountain for the Municipality — it is to be erected in the new
part of the Piazza Colonna. I expect to finish it in a fortnight.
You would like to see it? Yes? I'll send you cards — a little
private view, you know."

"But Bruno?"

" Ah ! yes, Bruno ! Well, I've been at a loss for a model
for one of my figures . . . figures all round the dish, you
know. They represent the Twelve Apostles, with Christ in the
centre giving out the water of life."

" But Bruno ! Bruno ! Bruno ! "

She laughed, and the merry ring of her laughter set them
all laughing.

" Well, Bruno has sung the praises of one of his friends
until I'm crazy . . . crazy, that's English, isn't it? I told you
I was half an Englishwoman. American ? Thanks, General !
I'm ' just crazy ' to get him in."

" Simple enough — hire him to sit to you," said the Princess.

" Oh," with a mock solemnity, " he is far too grand a person
for that ! A member of parliament, a leader of the Left, a

THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 35

prophet, a person with a mission, and I daren't even dream
of it. But this morning, Bruno tells me, his friend, his idol,
is to stop the Pope's procession, and jiresent a petition, so I
thought I would kill two birds with one stone — see my man and
see the spectacle — and here I am to see them ! "

" And who is this paragon of yours, my dear ? "

" The great David Rossi ! "

"That man!"

The white plumes were going like a fan.

" Why not ? They say he is beautiful. Tall, dark, dis-
tinguished, great ecstatic eyes, solemn expression, and deep
vibrating voice — one of those voices that go through and
through you — not a husky ' Left ' voice that cracks on the top
note, you know."

" The man is a public nuisance and ought to be put down
by the police," said the little Princess, beating her foot on the
floor.

" He has a tongue like a sword and a pen like a dagger,"
said the young Roman.

Donna Roma's eyes began to flash with a new expression.

" Ah, yes, he is a journalist, isn't he, and libels people in
his paper ? "

" The creature has ruined more reputations than anybody
else in Europe," said the little Princess.

" I remember now. tie made a terrible attack on our young
old women and our old young men. Declared they were
meddling with everything — called them a museum of mum-
mies, and said they were symbolical of the ruin that was coming
on the country. Shameful, wasn't it ? ISTobody likes to be talked
about, especially in Rome, where it's the end of everything.
But what matter? The young man has perhaps learned free-
dom of speech in some free country. We can afford to forgive
him, can't we? And then he is so interesting and so hand-
some ! "

The words, the tones, the glances, had gone flashing around
the room like veiled lightning, and the American looked over
at the Englishman, who dropped his head and thought, " It's
true, there's something terrible about her — something strange,
at all events."

" An attempt to stop the Pope's procession might end in
tumult," said the American General to the Italian General.
" Was that the danger the Baron spoke about ? "

" Yes," said General Mora. " The Government have been

36 THE ETERNAL CITY

compelled to tax bread, and of course that has been a signal
for the enemies of the national spirit to say that we are starv-
ing the people. This David Rossi is the worst Roman in Rome.
He opposed us in Parliament and lost. Petitioned the King
and lost again. Now he intends to petition the Pope — with
what hope, Heaven knows."

" With the hope of playing on public opinion of course,"
said the Baron cynically.

" Public opinion is a great force, your Excellency," said the
Englishman.

" A great pestilence," said the Baron warmly.

"What is David Rossi?"

" An anarchist, a republican, a nihilist, anything as old
as the hills, dear friend, only everything in a new way," said
the young Roman.

" David Rossi is the politician who proposes to govern the
world by the precepts of the Lord's Prayer," said the American.

"The Lord's Prayer!"

" A dreamer of other days, dear friend," said Don Camillo.
" Caught the sacred sickness abroad somewhere, and brought
the phantasm of his sick head, intoxicated with God, into the
Rome of the resurrection. Lombroso would have shut him up
in an asylum. We are more liberal, we only send him to the
Chamber of Deputies, where he formulates his unpractical
theories and draws up statistics of how much polenta the
peasants eat."

The Baron paraded on the hearthrug. " David Rossi," he
said compassionately, " is a creature of his age. A man of
generous impulses and wide sympathies, moved to indignation
at the extremes of poverty and wealth, and carried away by
the promptings of the eternal religion in the human soul. A
dreamer, of course, a dreamer like the Holy Eather himself,
(mly his dream is different, and neither could succeed without
destroying the other. In the millennium Rossi looks for, not
only are kings and princes to disappear, but popes and prelates
as well."

" And where does this unpractical politician come from ? "
said the Englishman.

" We must ask you to tell us that. Sir Evelyn, for though
he is supposed to be a Roman, he seems to have lived most
of his life in your country. As silent as an owl and as inscru-
table as a sphinx. Nobody in Rome knows certainly who his
father was, nobody knows certainly who his mother was. Some

THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 37

say his father was an Englishmqn, some say a Jew, and some
say his mother was a gipsy. A self-centred man, who never
talks about himself, and cannot be got to lift the veil which
surrounds his birth and early life. Came back to Rome eight
years ago, and made a vast noise by propounding his platonic
scheme of politics — was called up for his term of military
service, refused to sei*ve, got himself imprisoned for six months
and came out a mighty hero — was returned to Parliament for
no fewer than three constituencies, sat for Rome, took his place
on the Extreme Left, and attacked every Minister and every
measure which favoured the interest of the army — encouraged
the workmen not to pay their taxes and the farmers not to pay
their rents — and thus became the leader of a noisy faction, and
is now surrounded by the degenerate class throughout Italy
which dreams of reconstructing society by burying it under
ruins."

" A sort of religious anarchist apparently? "

" Say a visionary like the Pope, Sir Evelyn. His sover-
eign ideal is a vaporous dream which he calls the ' Republic
of Man.' The fatherhood of God ! The brotherhood of man !
Equality of human rights ! Unity of humanity ! Abolition
of war, of national boundaries, of the custom-house officer,
of the soldier, of distinctions of race, of ownership of land,
of capital, of authority, of the Vatican, of ... of every-
thing ! "

" Makes one think of the magnificent hallucinations of the
Early Christian ascetics," said the Englishman.

" Even hallucinations can make revolutions," said the
American.

" Lived in England, you say ? "

" Apparently, and if his early life could be traced, it would
probably be found that he was brought up in an atmosphere of
conspiracy — perhaps under the influence of some vile revolu-
tionary living in London under the protection of your too lib-
eral laws. Therefore one of the men who in every age interpret
by their own suiferings the sufferings of the world, and gather
about them, without intending it, all the low-bred rascals who
try to hurry society into dissolution and anarchy."

Donna Roma sprang up with a movement full of grace and
energy. " Anyhow," she said, " he is young and good-looking
and romantic and mysterious, and I'm head over ears in love
with him already."

" Well, every man is a world," said the American.

38 THE ETERNAL CITY

" And what about woman ? " said Roma.
He threw up his hands, she smiled full into his face, and
they laughed together.

VII

A FANFARE of trumpets came from the piazza, and with a
cry of delight Roma ran into the balcony, followed by all the
Avomen and most of the men.

" Only the signal that the cortege has started," said Don
Camillo. " They'll be some minutes still."

" Santo Dio ! " cried Roma. " What a sight ! It dazzles
me ; it makes me dizzy ! It's like an immense living thing, a
moving creature, great, but undefined, a mighty centogambe
with multitudinous heads ; and the sound that comes up from
it is like the buzz of a million grasshoppers."

After a moment she began to pick out her friends from
the maze in which all faces were at first confused in one magic
sensation.

That's the Ninety-third Infantry beyond the obelisk, and
those, with the cock feathers, are the Bersaglieri. There's Com-
mendatore Angelelli, the chief of police — what's he doing
down there, I wonder? That's Fedi, the Pope's doctor. Every-
body sends for him, and he knows all the secrets — ah, he could
tell us something ! There's Madame Sella, the Queen's dress-
maker— she has married her daughter to a Cavaliere, and
would get her son into the Ministry if she had one. That's
Palomba, the Mayor, in his big gilt carriage; and that's his
wife beside him, the pale, sweet lady with the roving eyes.
Palomba is a millionaire, and has his supper served on gold,
but his wiie is really out of her mind, poor creature — ah,
love is a sugared pill ! There's Olga the journalist, and Lena
the cartoonist — they say Lena's husband is Olga's lover — and
that's young Charles Minghelli standing by the carriage of
the old gentleman covered with medals. Charles is Palomba's
nephew — he got into trouble at the Embassy in London, and
had to leave the service. Oh, what a lovely sight ! All the
costumes of Europe ! But how funny the men look in evening
dress in the morning. Wonder if the policemen gave them
away when they came down the street, and said * Good-night '
to them as usual."

Her face beamed, her eyes danced, and she was all aglow
from head to foot. The American Ambassador stood behind

THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 39

her, and, as permitted by his greater age, he tossed back the
shuttlecock of her playful talk with chaff and laughter.

" How patient the people are ! See the little groups on
camp-stools, munching biscuits and reading the journals. ' La
Vera Roma! ' " (mimicking the cry of the newspaper sellers).
" Look at that pretty girl — the fair one with the young man in
the Homburg hat ! She has climbed up the obelisk, and is in-
viting him to sit on an inch and a half of corbel beside her."

" Ah, those who love take up little room ! "

" Don't they ? What a lovely world it is ! I'll tell you what
this makes me think about — a wedding! Glorious morning,
beautiful sunshine, flowers, wreaths, bridesmaids ready ; coach-
men all a posy, only waiting for the bride ! "

" A wedding is what you women are always dreaming about
— you begin dreaming about it in your cradles — it's in a wom-
an's bones, I do believe," said the American.

" Must be the ones she got from Adam, then," said Roma.

Meantime the Baron was still parading the hearthrug in-
side and listening to the warnings of his Minister of War.

" You are resolved to arrest the man ? "

" If he gives us any opportunity — yes."

" You do not forget that he is a Deputy ? "

" It is because I remember it that my resolution is fixed. In
Parliament he is a privileged person; let him make half as
much disorder outside and you shall see where he will be."

" Anarchists ! " said Roma. " That group below the bal-
cony ? Strange ! I don't feel the least repugnance ! "

" Did you think they were a kind of wild beast that ought
to be shut up in cages ? "

" Certainly I did, but then I think that of every son of
Adam. Is David Rossi among them ? Yes ? Which of them ?
Which ? Which ? Which ? The tall man in the black hat with
his back to us ? Oh ! why doesn't he turn his face ? Should T
shout?"

" Roma ! " from the little Princess.

" I know ; I'll faint, and you'll catch me, and the Princess
will cry 'Madonna mia!' and then he'll turn round and look
up."

"My child!"

"He'll see through you, though, and then where will you
be?"

" See through me, indeed ! " and she laughed the laugh a
man loves to hear, half -raillery, half-caress.

40 THE ETERNAL CITY

" Donna Roma Volonna, daughter of a line of princes, mak-
ing love to a nameless nobody ! "

" Shows what a heavenly character she is, then ! See how
good I am at throwing bouquets at myself ? "

" Well, what is love, anyway ? A certain boy and a certain
girl agree to go for a row in the same boat to the same place,
and if they pull together, what does it matter where they come
from?"

" What, indeed ? " she said, and a smile, partly serious,
played about the parted mouth.

"Could you think like that?"

"I could! I could! I could!"

The Minister of War was looking grave.

" The man has a great following. Remember, whatever
their differences, the priests are with him."

" They are always with everybody who is aiming to over-
throw the royal dynasty," said the Baron.

" If the Pope should receive his petition and listen to
him . . ."

" Let him ! Let the Pope join hands with any of the vision-
aries who are trying to bring society back to barbarism, and we
shall know what to do. Against the combined plague of cleri-
calism and anarchism some vigorous international measures
would soon be necessary, and that would be the end of the Holy
Roman Empire and of the Millennium of the Lord's Prayer
as well."

The clock struck eleven. Another fanfare of trumpets came
from the direction of the Vatican, and then the confused noises
in the square suddenly ceased and a broad " Ah ! " passed over
it, as of a vast living creature taking breath.

" They're coming ! " cried Roma. " Baron, the cortege is
coming."

" Presently," the Baron answered from within.

Roma's dog, which had slept on a chair through the tumult,
was awakened by the lull and began to bark. She picked it up,
tucked it under her arm and ran back to the balcony, where
she stood by the parapet, in full view of the people below, with
the young Roman on one side, the American on the other, and
the ladies seated around.

By this time the procession had begun to appear, issuing
from a bronze gate under the right arm of the colonnade, and
passing down the channel which had been kept open by the
cordon of infantry. At first a mixed anachronistic company,

THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 41

with gentlemen in evening dress, having glittering stars on
their shirt fronts, and chamberlains in silk stockings and
ruflfs.

Roma abandoned herself to the fascinations of the scene,
and her gaiety infected everybody.

" Camillo, you must tell me who they all are. There now —
those men who come first in black and red ? "

" Laymen," said the young Roman. " They're called the
Apostolic Cursori. When a Cardinal is nominated they take
him the news, and get two or three thousand francs for their
trouble."

" Good for them ! And those fine fellows in tight black vest-
ments like Spanish bullfighters ? "

" The Mazzieri ! They carry the mace to clear the way."

" Of course, the mace ! That's the big, bright silver stick,
the same as the porter's ! And this gorgeous person glittering
like a gamecock ? "

" That's the Pope's jeweller. He makes the Holy Rose and
takes care of the Pope's crown."

" Looks it, bless him ! And what is the person in red and
purple ? "

" Master of the Holy Hospice, and that old priest behind
him is one of the Under-Sacristans."

" And these little fat folk in white lace pinafores ? "

" Singers of the Sistine Chapel. That's the Director, old
Maestro Mustafa — used to be the greatest soprano of the cen-
tury."

" Thought he looked like an old woman gone wrong," said
the American.

" Did you, now ? "

" Well, look at his figure."

" But a woman's figure is . . . but that's a myster''^ out-
side of man's inferior nature. Go on, Camillo mio."

" Those men in the long black robes are lawyers of the
Apostolic palace."

" And this dear old friar with the mittens and rosary and
the comfortable linsey-woolsey sort of face ? "

" That's Father Pifferi of San Lorenzo, confessor to the
Pope. He knows all the Pope's sins."

" Oh ! " said Roma.

At that moment her dog barked furiously, and the old friar
looked up at her, whereupon she smiled down on him, and then
a half smile played about his good-natured face.
4

42 THE ETERNAL CITY

" He is a Capuchin, and those Frati in different colours
coming behind him . . ,"

" I know them ; see if I don't," she cried, as there passed
under the balcony a double file of friars and monks, nearly all
alike, fat, ungainly, flabby, puffy specimens of humanity, car-
rying torches of triple candles, and telling their beads as they
walked.

The brown ones— Capuchins and Franciscans! Brown and
white — Carmelites ! Black — Augustinians and Benedictines !
Black with a white cross — Passionists ! And the monks all white
are Trappists. I know the Trappists best, because I drive out to
Tre Fontane to buy eucalyptus and flirt with Father John."

" Shocking ! " said the American.

" Why not ? What are their vows of celibacy but con-
spiracies against us poor women ? Kearly every man a woman
wants is either mated or has sworn off in some way. Oh, how I
should love to meet one of those anchorites in real life and
make him fly ! "

" Well, I dare say the w^hisk of a petticoat would be more
frightening than all his doctors of divinity."

An immense Gonfalone was going past, followed by a long
line of clergymen.

" These are the Monsignori," said Don Camillo. " Secret
Chaplains and Secret Chamberlains. That one is the Uditore
Generale of the Apostolic Room. This one is the Prefect of the
Ceremonies. They go with the Pope to the Hall of Vestments,
where he puts on his sacred robes."

" Do they dress him up ? "

" Oh, dear no ! That is an honour reserved for much higher
dignitaries. Here they come — the General of the Jesuits, they
call him the Black Pope."

" Good morning, Signer, the successor of Loyola ! "

" Look ! Bishops and Archbishops in white linen mitres,
and Cardinals in silver and gold, all aglow with crimson and
guipure lace. That one is a Cardinal Bishop — he puts on the
Pope's pluviale."

"What's the pluviale?"

" The pluviale . . . I'll show you when the Pope comes.
The one behind in the red rochet with silver mitre is a Cardinal
Priest. He gives the Pope a gilded candle with a handle to
hold it by made of silk embroidered with gold ; and the one in
the tunic is a Cardinal Deacon — he carries the canrllestick. in
case the Pope should grow tired."

THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 43

"Listen!"

From a part of the procession which had passed the balcony
there came the sound of harmonious voices.

"The singers of the Sistine Chapel! They're singing a
hymn."

"I know it. ' Veni, Creator!' How splendid! How
glorious ! I feel as if I wanted to cry ! "

But she was still smiling at the whole world becaiise it was
so great and so beautiful, when the Baron came up behind, and,
leaning against the pilaster of the window, spoke over her
shoulder to the Minister of War, who stood beside her.

" That's the enemy within our gates ! An actor versed in
every art of arresting the eye and ear of the populace, and with
the experience of sixteen centuries in playing the drama of
sovereignty. jSTow, if to this pageantry is added a little senti-
ment, who knows what seed it may fertilise in a soil ploughed
by seventy thousand priests and harrowed by men like David
Rossi ! "

All at once the singing stopped, the murmuring and speak-
ing of the crowd ceased too, and there was a breathless mo-
ment, such as comes before the first blast of a storm. A
nervous quiver, like the shudder that passes over the earth at
sundown, swept across the piazza, and the people stood motion-
less, every neck stretched, and every eye turned In the direction
of the bronze gate, as if God were about to reveal Himself from
the Holy of Holies. Then in that grand silence there came the
clear call of silver trumpets, and at the next instant the
Presence itself.

" The Pope ! Baron, the Pope ! "

The atmosphere was charged with electricity. A great roar
of cheering went up from below like the roaring of surf, and
it was followed by a clapping of hands like the running of
the sea off a shingly beach after the boom of a tremendous
breaker.

An old man, dressed whollv in white, carried shoulder-high
on a chair glittering with purple and crimson, and having a
canopy of silver and gold above him. He wore a triple crown,
which glistened in the sunlight, and but for the delicate white
hand which he vipraised to bless the people, he might have been
mistaken for an image.

His face was beautiful, and had a ray of beatified light on
it — a face of marvellous sweetness and great spirituality.

Tt was a thrilling moment, and Roma's excitement was in-

44 THE ETERNAL CITY

tense. " There he is ! All in white ! He's on a gilded chair
under the silken canopy ! The canopy is held up by prelates,
and the chairmen are in knee-breeches and red velvet. Look at
the great waving plumes on either side ! "

" Peacock's feathers ! " said a voice behind her, but she paid
no heed.

" Look at the acolytes swinging incense, and the golden
cross coming before ! What thunders of applause — I can
hardly hear myself speak. It's like standing on a cliff while the
sea below is running mountains high. No, it's like no other
sound on earth ; it's human — fifty thousand unloosed throats
of men ! That's the clapping of ladies — listen to the weak ap-
l)lause of their white-gloved fingers. Now they're waving their
handkerchiefs. Look! Like the wings of ten thousand butter-
fiics fluttering up from a meadow."

" Like the creation of a queen bee," said the cynical voice
behind.

" I'll wave my own handkerchief ! I must ! I can't
help it ! "

There were deafening shouts in Italian, French, and Eng-
lish. " Long live the Pope-King ! " " Long live the Work-
men's Pope ! "

Roma's mental and physical abandonment was by this time
complete; she was waving her handkerchief and crying " Viva
il Papa Ee!"

" Some of the ladies are fainting. Yes, they're losing their
senses."

" They'll lose something more valuable soon — their purses,
if they don't take care," said the voice behind, but still Roma
heard nothing.

" They're bearing him slowly along. He's coming this way.
Look at the Noble Guard in their helmets and jack-boots. And
there are the Swiss Guard in Joseph's coat of many colours!
We can see him plainly now. Do you smell the incense? It's
like the ribbon of Bruges. The pluviale ? That gold vestment ?
It's studded on his breast with precious stones. How they blaze
in the sunshine ! He is blessing the people, and they are falling
on their knees before him."

" Like the grass before the scythe ! "

" How tired he looks ! How white his face is ! No, not
white — ivory ! No, marble — Carrara marble ! He might be
Lazarus who was dead and has come back from the tomb ! No
humanity left in liira ! A sfiint I An angel ! "

THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 45

" The spiritual autocrat of the world ! " said the voice be-
hind.

" Viva il Pay a Re! He's going by! Viva il Papa Re! He
has gone. . . . Well!"

She was rising from her knees and wiping her eyes, trying
to cover up with laughter the confusion of her rapture.

" Such are the enchantments of eternal Rome — Rome, the
lighthouse on the rock of time ! " said the Baron.

" Well," said the American, " if the Pope is a symbol we'll
just stick to our flag. Seems to me it isn't too good for a man
to be attended like a pagan god."

"What is that?"

There was a somid of voices in the distance chanting
dolorously.

" The cantors intoning the Tu es Petnis" said Don
Camillo.

" No, I mean the commotion down there. Somebody is
pushing through the Guard."

" It's David Rossi," said the American.

" Is that David Rossi ? Oh, dear me ! I had forgotten all
about him." She moved forward to see his face. " Why . . .
where have I . . . I've seen him before somewhere."

A strange physical sensation tingled all over her at that
moment, and she shuddered as if with sudden cold.

"What's amiss?"

"Nothing! But I like him. Do you know, I really like
him."

" Women are funny things," said the American.

" They're very nice, though, aren't they ? " And two rows
of pearly teeth between parted lips gleamed up at him witli
gay raillery.

Again she craned forward. " He is on his knees to the
Pope! Now he'll present the petition. No . . . yes . . . the
brutes ! They're dragging him away ! The procession is going
on ! Disgraceful ! "

" Long live the Workmen's Pope ! " came up from the
piazza, and under the shrill shouts of the pilgrims Avere heard
the monotonous voices of the monks as they passed through the
open doors of the Basilica intoning the praises of God.

" They are lifting him on to a car," said the American.
• " David Rossi ? "

" Yes ; he is going to speak."

" How delightful ! Shall we hoar him ? Goodj How glad

46 THE ETERNAL CITY

I am that I came! He is facing this way! Oh, yes; those
are his own people with the banners ! Baron, the Holy
Father has gone on to St. Peter's, and David Rossi is going
to speak."

"Hush!"

A quivering, vibrating voice came up from below, and in a
moment there was a dead silence.

VIII

" Brothers, when Christ Himself was on the earth going up
to Jerusalem, He rode on the colt of an ass, and the blind and
the lame and the sick came to Him, and He healed them.
Humanity is sick and blind and lame to-day, brothers, but the
Vicar of Christ goes on."

At the words an audible murmur came from the crowd, such
as goes before the clapping of hands in a Roman theatre, a
great upheaval of the heart of the audience to the actor who
has touched and stirred it.

" Brothers, in a little Eastern village a long time ago, there
arose among the poor and lowly a great Teacher, and the
only prayer He taught liis followers was the prayer ' Our
Father who art in Heaven.' It was the expression of man's
utmost need, the expression of man's utmost hope. And not
only did the Teacher teach that prayer — He lived according
to the light of it. All men were His brothers, all women
His sisters : He was poor. He had no home, no purse, and no
second coat; when He was smitten He did not smite back,
and when He was unjustly accused He did not defend Him-
self."

The long " Ah ! " again, as of sympathy and emotion.

" Nineteen hundred years have passed since then, brothers,
and the Teacher who arose among the poor and lowly is now
a great prophet. All the world knows and honours Him, and
fivilised nations have built themselves upon the religion He
founded. A great Church calls itself by His name, and a
mighty kingdom, known as Christendom, owes allegiance to
His faith. But what of His teaching? He said: 'Resist
not evil,' yet all Christian nations maintain standing armies.
He said : ' Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth,'
yet the wealthiest men are Christian men, and the richest
organisation Jn the world is the Christian Church. He said:

THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 47

' Our Father who art in Heaven,' yet men who ought to
be brothers are divided into states, and hate each other as
enemies. He said : ' Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done
on earth as it is done in Heaven,' yet he who believes it
ever will come is called a fanatic and a fool. He said : ' Give
us day by day our daily bread,' yet Governments tax our bread
so as to nullify God's gift, and give to the few the soil of the
earth which belongs to all ! "

Some murmurs of dissent were drowned in cries of " Go
on!" "Speak!" "Silence!"

" Is Christ Himself at fault, brothers ? Has the world
found out that He is impossible? Are the laws of life too
much for Him ? The Teacher of the past is lost in the present,
and we who look back over the centuries are saying with the
broken-hearted woman at the empty tomb of her Master:
' They have taken my Lord away, and I know not where they
have laid Him.' "

"Hush!" "Silence!" "Listen!" "Let him speak!"
" Go on ! "

" Foremost and grandest of the teachings of Christ are two
Inseparable truths — the fatherhood of God and the brother-
hood of man. But in Italy, as elsewhere, the people are
starved that king may contend with king, and when we appeal
to the Pope to protest in the name of the Prince of Peace, he
remembers his temporalities and passes on ! "

At these words the emotion of the crowd broke into Ljud
shouts of approval, with which some groans were mingled. The
company on the balcony were moving in their places.

" No doubt about it," said the American. " This is one
of the men with the power of reaching the people."

"Yes, he is able to play the melodramatic part in political
affairs," said the Baron.

Roma had turned her face aside from the speaker, and
her profile was changed- — the gay, sprightly, airy, radiant look
had given way to a serious, almost a melancholy expression.
Something in David Possi's voice had opened a coll in her
memory which had been long sealed up. She closed her eyes
and saw, as in a magic mirror, faces and scenes which she
seemed to have known in some other existence. A dark house
in a gloomy city — the air outside full of mist and snow — an
old mnn kissing her — herself a child — and somebody else with a
voice like this. . . . But a faintness came over her, and when
she heard the voice again it was a long way off, in a rumble of

4:8 THE ETERNAL CITY

other sounds, like the noises that come through the vanishing
fumes of an anaesthetic.

" We have two sovereigns in Rome, brothers, a great State
and a great Church, with a perishing people. We have soldiers
enough to kill us, priests enough to tell us how to die, but no
one to show us how to live."

" Corruption ! Corruption ! "

" Corruption indeed, brothers ; and who is there among us
to whom the corruptions of our rulers are unknown? Who can-
not point to the wars made that should not have been made? to
the banks broken that should not have broken? to the debts
paid that should not have been contracted? to the magistrates
who act on their own heads, and the police who invent plots to
give themselves the credit of revealing them? Who does not
know of the Camorra that saves great criminals, and the Mafia
that murders honest men? And who in Rome cannot point to
the Ministers who allow their mistresses to meddle in public
affairs and enrich themselves by the ruin of all around ? "

The little Princess on the balcony was twisting about.

" What ! Are you deserting us, Roma ? "

And Roma answered from within the house, in a voice that
sounded strange and muffled :

" It was cold on the balcony, I think."

Then the little Princess laughed a bitter laugh, like the
laugh of the creature of the woods that laughs at night, and
David Rossi heard it and misunderstood it, and his nostrils
quivered like the nostrils of a horse, and when he spoke again
his voice shook with passion.

" Who has not seen the splendid equipages of these privi-
leged ones of fortune — their gorgeous liveries of scarlet and
gold — emblems of the acid which is eating into the public
organs? Has Providence raised this country from the dead
only to be dizzied in a whirlpool of scandal, hypocrisy, and
fraud — only to fall a prey to an infamous traffic without a name
between high officials of low desires and women whose reputa-
tions are long since lost ? It is men and women like these who
destroy their country for their own selfish ends. Very well; let
them destroy her, but before they do so, let them hear what one
of her children says: the government you are building up on
the whitened bones of the people shall be overthrown — the
King who countenances you, and the Pope who will not con-
demn you, shall be overthrown, and then — and not till then —
will the nation be free."

THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 49

At this there was a terrific clamour. The square resounded
with confused voices. " Bravo ! " " Dog ! " " Dog's murderer ! "
" Traitor ! " " Long live David Rossi ! " " Down with the
Vampire ! "

The ladies had fled from the balcony back to the room with
cries of alarm. " There will be a riot." " The man is inciting
the people to rebellion ! " " This house will be first to be at-
tacked ! "

" Calm yourselves, ladies. Xo harm shall come to you,"
said the Baron, and he rang the bell.

There came from below a babel of shouts and screams.

" Madonna mia ! What is that? " cried the Princess, wring-
ing her hands; and the American Ambassador, who had re-
mained on the balcony, said :

" The Carabineers have charged the crowd and arrested
David Rossi."

" Thank God ! "

The storm of noises seemed to sweep under the house and
down a gorge which deadened it.

" They're going through the Borgo," said Don Camillo,
" and kicking and cuffing and jostling and hustling all the
Avay."

" Don't be alarmed ! There's the Hospital of Santo Spirito
round the corner, and stations of the Red Cross Society every-
where," said the Baron, and then Felice answered the bell.

" See our friends out by the street at the back, Felice.
Ciood-bye, ladies! Have no fear! The Government does not
mean to blunt the weapons it uses against the malefactors who
insult the doctrines of the State."

" Excellent Minister! " said the Princess. " Such canaglia
are not fit to have their liberty, and I would lock them all up
in prison."

And then Don Camillo offered his arm to the little lady
with the white plumes, and they Came almost face to face with
Roma, who was standing by the door hung with curtains, fan-
ning herself with her handkerchief, and parting from tlie
English Ambassador.

" Donna Roma," he was saying, " if T can ever be of use to
you, either now or in the future, I beg of you to command me."

Her hand in his was qiiivering like a captive bird, and he
thought as he turned away, " Yes, there is a strange mixture
of heaven and earth in her, and God knows which will come
out top."

no THE ETERNAL CITY

" Look at her ! " whispered the Princess. " How agitated
she is ! A moment ago she was finding it cold in the Loggia !
I'm so happy ! "

At the next instant she ran up to Roma and kissed her.
" Poor child ! LIow sorry I am ! You have my sympathy, my
dear ! But didn't I tell you the man was a public nuisance,
and ought to be put down by the police ? "

" Shameful, isn't it," said Don Camillo. " Calumny is a
little wind, but it raises such a terrible tempest."

" l^obody likes to be talked about," said the Princess,
" especially in Kome, where it is the end of everything."

" But what matter ! Perhaps the young man has learned
freedom of speech in a free country ! " said Don Camillo.

" And then he is so interesting and so handsome," said the
Princess.

Roma made no answer. There was a slight drooping of the
lovely eyes and a trembling of the lips and nostrils. For a
moment she stood absolutely impassive, and then with a flash
of disdain she flung round into the inner room.

Meantime, the American Ambassador and his wife were
saying their adieux to the Baron.

" In my country, your Excellency, we don't look upon popu-
lar demonstrations as an insult to the powers of the State."

" What do you do, dear General ? "

" We regard them as you regard the heiroglyphs on your
obelisks, as so many writings on the wall, and we set ourselves
to decipher them."

The Baron bowed and smiled coldly. Only the Minister of
War remained. His sword-carved face looked angular and
angry, and he was taking up his hat to go.

" Perhaps the mission of the twentieth century is neither
the papacy's nor the monarchy's," he said. " These anarchist
outbreaks are like the fumaroles on Vesuvius, through which
the steam escapes with a whistle. There are constant rum-
blings in the earth and nothing will grow on the surface. Why?
Because something is going on underneath."

The Baron smiled again and bowed very low.

TX

Roma had taken refuge in the council-room — a room whose
three walls seemed built in blocks of bkie-books, while the
fciurth was open to the square. There had been much busi-

THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 51

ness that morning, and a copy of the constitutional statute
lay open on a large table, which had a plate-glass top with pho-
tographs under the surface.

In this passionless atmosphere, so little accustomed to such
scenes, Roma sat in her wounded pride and humiliation, with
her head down, and her beautiful, white hands over her face.
The whole earth seemed to sink under her, and she was strug-
gling to keep back her sobs. It was like the Day of Judgment,
and her doom had fallen on her out of a sky of cloudless blue.

She heard measured footsteps approaching, and then a hand
touched her on the shoulder. She looked up and drew back as
if the touch stung her. A sudden change had come over her
beautiful face, and the violet eyes almost seemed as if they
liad bled. Her lips closed sternly, and she got iip and began
to walk about the room, and then she burst into a torrent of
anger.

" Did you hear them ? The cats ! How they loved to claw
me, and still purr and purr! Before the sun is set the story
will be all over Rome ! It has run off already on the hoofs of
that woman's English horses. She'll drive them until they
drop, taking the news everywhere. How they'll gloat over it
in their tea-room in the Corso — all the fantastic old Philemona
and the faded Baucises who have been jealous of me for yeai's!
To-morrow morning it will be in every newspaper in the king-
dom. Olga and Lena and every woman of them all who lives
in a glass house will throw stones. 'The new Pompadour!
Who is she? ' Oh, I could die of vexation and shame! "

The Baron leaned against the table and listened, twisting
the ends of his moustache.

" The Court will turn its back on me now. They only
wanted a good excuse to put their humiliations upon me. The
ostlers and grooms who call themselves Conti and Commeiida-
tori, and the little antique frights who have grown old and still
try to fascinate men — they'll carry their ugly necks like
gazelles and find me too notorious ! It's horrible ! I can't bear
it. I won't. I tell you, I won't ! "

But the lips, compressed with scorn, began to quiver visibly,
and she threw herself into a chair, took out her handkerchief,
and hid her face on the table.

At that moment Felice came into the room to say that the
Commendatore Angelelli had returned and wished to speak
with his Excellency.

"I will see him presently," said the Baron, Avith an ini-

.52 THE ETERNAL CITY

passive expression, and Felice went out silently, as one who
had seen nothing.

The Baron's calm dignity was wounded. " Be so good as to
have some regard for me in the presence of my servants," he
said. " I understand your feelings, but you are much too ex-
cited to see things in their proper light. You have been pub-
licly insulted and degraded, but you must not talk to me as
if it were my fault."

" Then whose is it ? If it is not your fault whose fault
is it? " she said, and the Baron thought her red eyes flashed up
at him with an expression of hate. He took the blow full in the
face but made no reply, and his silence broke her answer.

" No, no, that was too bad," she said, and she reached over
to him and he kissed her, and then sat down beside her and
took her hand and held it. At the next moment her brilliant
eyes had filled with tears and her head was down and the hot
drops were falling on to the back of his hand.

After a while she became calmer, but with the calm of deso-
lation, the calm after the cyclone, when the world is a waste
where there had once been a garden in which flowers smiled
and the grass was green.

" I suppose it is all over," she said.

" Don't say that," he answered. " We don't know what a
day may bring forth. Before long T may have it in my power
to silence every slander and justify you in the eyes of all."

At that she raised her head with a smile and seemed to look
beyond the Baron at something in the vague distance, while
the glass top of the table, which had been clouded by her
breath, cleared gradually, and revealed a large house almost
liidd(m among trees. It was a photograph of the Baron's castle
in the Alban hills.

" Only," continued the Baron, " you must get rid of that
man Bruno."

" I will discharge him this very dav — T will ! I will ! T
will ! "

There was an intense bitterness in the thought that what
David Rossi had said must have come of what her own servant
told him — that Bruno had watched her in her own house day by
day, and that time after time the two men had discussed her
between them.

" I could kill him," she said.

" Bruno Rocco ? "

" No, David Rossi."

THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 53

But the real torment came of the thought that she had
been so near to loving him — had almost raised him to a poetic
height of adoration in her own eyes — when he had disgraced
and degraded her.

" Have patience, he shall be punished," said the Baron.

"How?"

" He shall be put on his trial."

"What for?"

" Sedition. The law allows a man to say what he will about
a Prime Minister, but he must not foretell the overthrow of
the King. The fellow has gone too far at last. He shall go to
Santo Stefano."

" What good will that do ? "

" He will be silenced — and crushed."

She looked at the Baron with a sidelong smile, and some-
thing in her heart, which she did not understand, made her
laugh at him.

" Do you imagine you can crush a man like that by trying
and condemning him ? " she said. " He has insulted and hu-
miliated me, but I'm not silly enough to deceive myself. Try
him, condemn him, and he will be greater in his prison than
the King on his throne."

The Baron twisted the ends of his moustache again.

" Besides," she said, " what benefit will it be to me if you
put him on trial for inciting the people to rebellion against
the King? The public will say it was for insulting yourself,
and everybody will think he was punished for telling the
truth."

The Baron continued to twist the ends of his moustache.

" Benefit ! " She laughed ironically. " It will be a double
injury. The insult will be repeated in public again and again.
First, the advocate for the crown will read it aloud, then the
advocate for the defence will quote it, and then it will be dis-
cussed and dissected and telegraphed until everybody in court
knows it by heart and all Europe has heard of it."

The Baron made no answer, but watched the beautiful face,
now very pale, behind which conflicting thoughts seemed to
wriggle like a knot of vipers- Suddenly she leaped up with
a spring.

" I know," she cried, " I know ! I know ! I know ! "

"Well?"

" Give the man to me, and I will show you how to escai)e
from this humiliating situation."

54 THE ETERNAL CITY

" Eoma ? " said the Baron, but he had read her thought
already.

" If you punish him for this speech you will injure both of
us and do no good to the King."

" It's true."

" Take him in a serious conspiracy, and you will be doing
us no harm and the King some service."

" No doixbt."

" You say there is a mystery about David Rossi, and you
want to know who he is, who his father was, and where he spent
the years he was away from Rome."

" I would certainly give a good deal to know it."

" You want to know what vile refugee in London filled him
with his fancies, what conspiracies he is hatching, what secret
societies he belongs to, and, above all, what his plans and
schemes are, and whether he is in league with the Vatican."

She spoke so rapidly that the words sputtered out of her
quivering lips.

" Well ? "

" Well, I will find it all out for you."

" My dear Roipa ! "

" Leave him to me, and within a month you shall know " —
she laughed, a little ashamed — " the inmost secrets of his soul."

She was walking to and fro again, to prevent the Baron
from looking into her face, which was now red over its white,
like a rose moon in a stormy sky.

The Baron thought. " She is going to humble the man by
her charms — to draw him on and then fling him away, and thus
pay him back for what he has done to-day. So much the better
for me if I may stand by and do nothing. A strong Minister
should be unmoved by personal attacks. He should appear to
regard them with contempt."

He looked at her, and the brilliancy of her eyes set his heart
on fire. The terrible attraction of her face at that moment
stirred in him the only love he had for her. At the same time
it awakened the first spasm of jealousy.

"I understand you, Roma," he said, "you are splendid!
You are irresistible! But remember — the man is one of the in-
corruptible."

She laughed.

" No woman who has yet crossed his path seems to have
touched him, and it is the pride of all such men that no woman
ever can

THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 55

" I've seen him," she said.

" Take care! As you say, he is young and handsome."

She tossed her head and laughed again.

The Baron thought : " Certainly he has wounded her in a
way no woman can forgive."

" And what about Bruno ? " he said.

" He shall stay," she answered. " Such men are easy
enough to manage."

" You wish me to liberate David Rossi and leave you to deal
with him ? "

" I do ! Oh, for the day when I can turn the laugh against
him as he has turned the laugh against me ! At the top of his
hopes, at the height of his ambitions, at the moment when he
says to himself, ' It is done ' — he shall fall."

The Baron touched the bell. " Very well ! " he said. " One
can sometimes catch more flies with a spoonful of honey than
with a hogshead of vinegar. We shall see."

A moment later the Chief of Police entered the room. " The
Honourable Rossi is safely lodged in prison," he said.

" Commendatorer" said the Baron, pointing to the book
lying open on the table, " I have been looking again at the
statute, and now I am satisfied that a Deputy can be arrested
by the authorisation of Parliament alone."

" But, Excellency, if he is taken in the act, according to the
forty-fifth article, the parliamentary immunity ceases."

" Commendatore, I have given you my opinion, and now
it is my wish that the Honourable David Rossi should be set
at liberty."

" Excellency ! "

"Be so good as to liberate him instantly, and let your
officers see him safely through the streets to his home in the
Piazza N^avona."

The little head like a hen's went down like a hatchet, and
Commendatore Angelelli backed out of the room.

The great clock of St. Peter's struck twelve, and, at the
same moment, a breeze seemed to blow under the house with a
sound such as comes from the ground-swell over autumn leaves.
Roma and the Baron stepped up to the windows and looked out
on the piazza. Under the sunlit awning of the great balcony of

56 THE ETERNAL CITY

the Basilica a small figure was lifting its little hands, and
spreading its white sleeve-like wings. It was the Pope saluting
the new century and blessing all the nations of the earth in one
solemn benediction. His face could not be discerned, but his
voice rose like a bell on a rock at sea in tones of warning, sup-
plication, and love —

•• 2Iay the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, in whose potver and au-
thority we confide, intercede for us to the hordr

'■''Amen ! "

"And may tlie blessing of Almighty God [f], Father [f], Son [f]
and Holy G/iost descend upon you and remain with you forever.''^

" Amen /"

The human waves beneath were still. Over all the piazza,
as far as the embracing arms of the colonnade, the people
knelt, without noise, and only the flashing forest of the soldiers'
bayonets could be heard when, at the last word of the Bene-
diction, the rifles clanged on the pavement.

The silence was profound and awful. All the noises of life
had ceased, and it was almost as if the world were trembling
before it plunged into some abyss.

Then the mid-day cannon of the Castle of St. Angelo
boomed out over the city, and the people on their knees clutched
at each other as if the familiar sound had been the voice of God
on the Day of Judgment. At the next moment the bells were
ringing — first the great bell of St. Peter's, and then all the
church bells of the city, clashing and clanging together.

By this time the white wings under the sunlit awning were
dropping the Bulls from the great balcony, and people were
struggling for the slips of paper as they fell. Then the little
figure moved away with its huge fans on either side of it and
the ordinary life of the world was resumed.

Only half a minute, and yet it seemed as if for that period
all human hearts had ceased to beat. When Roma came to
herself she was rising from her knees, and the Baron was in the
act of rising beside her. He rose with a shamefaced look, and
turning to Roma, who was closing her astrachan coat to go, he
took hold of it by the revers and began to fasten it over her
full and graceful form. The joyous smile had come back to
her face, and as he stood in front of her he reached over to kiss
her again, but she turned her head aside and his lips only
touched her cheek.

THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 57

Then she laughed and took his arm, and he saw her to the
carriage. The joy of life and motion had returned to her
already, and she walked with a quick, high-lifting of the feet,
as if the wings of Mercury were under her ankles. Going
through the outer room, with its gilding of the middle ages,
she spoke in her ordinary cheery way to the servants.

" Good day, Felice ! " and Felice's icy smile was like the
glint of a glacier.

" What a treasure that man is ! Sees nothing ! Must have
been brought up in the Vatican and caught the manners of a
Cardinal ! "

" You shall have him at Trinita de' Monti if you wish it,"
said the Baron. And thus they passed through the gloomy
throne- room, with its faded arm-chair turned to the wall, as it
had been since the days when the crippled old banker enter-
tained Popes and dreamed of making them.

The crowd was running out of the piazza in rivers of people
on foot, irate coachmen were shouting to Carabineers on horse-
back, and over the many sounds of the ebbing tide of humanity
were heard the clashings and plungings of the church bells in
the sunlit air above the city, like thunder set to music. It was
with difficulty that the porter with the silver mace made a way
to the carriage that stood waiting before the courtyard.
. Donna Roma sprang up to her place and sank back into the
blue silk cushions, and a lackey in powdered wig brought up
the dog and put it beside her. As the liveries of scarlet and
gold disappeared around the corner, the Baron saw a white-
gloved hand waving to him with a quick motion, and a lovely
face smiling as behind a veil.

PAET TWO

THE REPUBLIC OF MAN

The Piazza Navona is the heart and soul of old Rome. In
other quarters of the living city you feel tempted to ask: "Is
this London? " or, " Is this Paris? " or, " Is this New York or
Berlin? " but in the Piazza Navona you can only tell yourself,
"This is Rome!"

It lies like a central spider in a cobweb of little streets, and
is connected with the main thoroughfares by narrow lanes
which have iron posts across their entrances — relics of the
troublous times when it was necessary to chain back the mob.
One might regd the story of papal Rome in the volume of the
Piazza Navona alone, for truly the stones cry out.

One end of the Piazza is magnificent. There stands the
Braschi Palace, now the office of the ^linistry of the Interior,
but still barred across its lower story. Against the wall of the
Braschi leans the broken trunk of the Pasquin statue, whose
glorious loins are father to half the great art of the world.
Near to both stands the palace of the Pamphili, with the papal
arms on its doorpost, and every stone of its structure cemented
by the blood of the Pope who gave it to a Jezebel in the days of
his strength, and was repaid on the day of his death by an
insult to his dishonoured corpse. Next to the Pamphili stands
the Church of St. Agnes, built of splendid marbles; and down
the middle of the piazza there runs a line of three fountains,
which culminate in an obelisk, on which a dove sits with the
branch of promise in its bill.

But the deluge is rising again for all that, and out of the
maze of streets beyond, where fruit-stalls stand on the pave-
ment, whore the washing is suspended from the windows, and
where bird-cages hang on the walls, there surges up from the
other end of the Navona a wave of indistinguishable edifices —
shops, cafes, arches, apartment-houses — sweeping away one by
58

THE REPUBLIC OP MAN 59

one the old Roman palaces, with their broken columns, broken
capitals, broken statuary, and broken water-troughs, as well as
the creeping moss and trailing vine which have tried for cen-
turies to cover their gorgeous ruin.

In one of these modern structures, an apartment-house
nearly opposite to the obelisk and the church, David Rossi had
lived during the seven years since he became Member of Parlia-
ment for Rome. The ground floor is a Trattoria, half eating-
house and half wine-shop, with rude frescoes on its distempered
walls, representing the Bay of Naples with Vesuvius in erup-
tion. A passage running by the side of the Trattoria leads
to the apartments overhead, and at the foot of the staircase
there is a porter's lodge, a closet always lighted by a lamp,
which burns down the dark passage day and night, like a
bloodshot eye.

In this lodge lived a veteran Garibaldian, in his red shirt
and pork-pie hat, with his old wife, wrinkled like a turkey, and
wearing a red handkerchief over her head, fastened by a silver
pin. David Rossi's apartments consisted of three rooms on the
fourth floor, two to the front, the third to the back, and a lead
flat opening out of them on to the roof.

In one of the front rooms on the afternoon of the Pope's
Jubilee, a young woman sat knitting with an open book on her
lap, while a boy of six knelt by her side, and pretended to
learn his lesson. She was a comely but timid creature, with
liquid eyes and a soft voice, and he was a shock-headed little
giant, like the cub of a young lion.

" Go on, Joseph," said the woman, pointing with her knit-
ting-needle to the line on the page. " * And it came to
pass . . .' "

But Joseph's little eyes were peering first at the clock on
the mantel-piece, and then out at the window and down the
square.

" Didn't you say they were to be here at two, mamma ? "

" Yes, dear. Mr. Rossi was to be set free immediately, and
papa, who ran home with the good news, has gone back to fetch
him."

" Oh ! ' And it came to pass afterward that he loved a
woman in the Valley of Sorek, whose name was Delilah . . .'
But, mamma . . ."

" Yes, dear."

" Why did the police put Uncle David in prison ? "

" Because he is a good man, dear, and loves the people."

60 THE ETERNAL CITY

" Oh ! "

" Go on, Joseph. ' And the lords of the Philistines . . .' "

" ' And the lords of tlie Philistines came up unto her, and
said unto her, Entice him and see wherein his great strength
lieth . . .' But, mamma, didn't you say the police put people
in prison for doing wrong ? "

" Go on with your lesson, Joseph. You've made me lose the
place. Where were we ? ' And she made him sleep . . .' "

" ' And she made him sleep upon her knees, and she called
for a man, and she caused him to shave off the seven locks of
his head . . .' But, mamma, he hasn't got his head shaved off
in the picture."

The big-headed cub rolled over to the window to look
again at a theatrical poster on a neighbouring hoarding, rep-
resenting Samson, blind and helpless, in the house of his
enemies.

" Joseph, you are very naughty to-day. Didn't you promise
1() learn your lesson if I allowed you to read about Samson out
of TJncle Eossi's Bible?"

But at that moment there came a knock at the door, where-
upon the boy uttered a cry of delight, and with a radiant face
went plunging and shouting out of the room.

" Uncle David ! It's Uncle David ! "

The tumultuous voice rolled like baby thunder through the
apartment until it reached the door, and then it dropped to a
dead silence.

" Who is it, Joseph ? "

" A gentleman," said the boy.

II

It was the fashionable young Roman with the watchful
eyes and twirled-up moustache, who had stood by the old
Frenchman's carriage in the Piazza of St. Peter.

" Pardon me, madam," he said. " I wish to speak with Mr.
Bossi. I bring him an important message from abroad. He is
coming alf)ng with the people, but to make sure of an interview
T hurried ahead. ISlay I wait ? "

"Certainly! Come in, sir! You say he is coming? Yes?
Then he is free ? "

The woman's liquid eyes were glistening visibly, and the
man's watchful ones seemed to notice everything.

THE REPUBIJO OP MAN T)!

" Yes, madam, he is free. I saw him arrested, and I also
saw him set at liberty."

" Really ? Then you can tell me all about it ? That's good !
I have heard so little of all that happened, and my boy and I
have not been able to think of anything else. Sit down, sir ! "

" As the police were taking him to the station-house in the
Borgo," said the stranger, " the people made an attempt to
rescue him, and it seemed as if they must certainly have suc-
ceeded if it had not been for his own intervention."

" He stopped them, didn't he? I'm sure he stopped them ! "

" He did. The delegate had given his three warnings, and
the Brigadier was on the point of ordering his men to tii'e,
when the prisoner threw up his hands before the crowd."

"I knew it! Well?"

" ' Brothers,' he said, ' let no blood be shed for my sake.
Let no mother be made childless, no child fatherless, no wife a
widow ! We are in God's hands. Go home ! ' "

" How like him ! And then, sir ? "

" Then the crowd broke up like a bubble, and the officer
who was in charge of him uncovered his head. ' Room for the
Honourable Rossi!' he cried, and the prisoner went into the
prison."

The liquid eyes were running over by this time, and the
soft voice was trembling: "You say you saw him set at lib-
erty ? "

"Yes! I was in the public service myself until lately, so
they allowed me to enter the police-station, and when the order
for release came I was present and heard all. ' Deputy,' said
the officer, ' I have the honour to inform you that you are free.'
' But before I go I must say something,' said the Deputy. ' ^Fy
only orders are that you are to be set at liberty,' said the officer.
' Nevertheless, I must see the Minister,' said Mr. Rossi. But
the crowd had pressed in and surrounded him, and in a moment
the flood had carried him out into the street, with shouts and
the waving of hats and a whirlwind of enthusiasm. And now
he is being dra^vn by force through the city in a mad, glad, wild
procession."

" But he deserves it all, and more — far, far more! "

The stranger looked at the woman's beaming eyes, and said,
" You are not his wife — no ? "

" Oh, no ! I'm only the wife of one of his friends," she
answered.

" But you live here ? "

62 THE ETERNAL CITY

" We live in the rooms on the roof."

" Perhaps you keep house for the Deputy."

" Yes — that is to say — ^yes, we keep house for Mr. Rossi."

" Of course you admire him very much ? "

" Nobody could help doing that, sir. He is so good, so
unselfish. In fact, he is perfect — he really hasn't a fault. He
is . . ."

She stopped, for something in the man's look arrested her.

" May I ask what your husband's name is ? "

" Bruno Rocco, and when I say he is Mr. Rossi's friend, sir,
you must not think I presume. Perhaps it was the way they
met first that made them such close comrades. They met in
prison."

" In prison ? "

" I mean the military prison. Mr. Rossi had been called up
for military service, and had refused to serve, so they sent him
to the Castle for punishment. At last they ordered the strait-
waistcoat, and kept him for forty-eight hours in pain and
suffering like Christ. He never uttered a word or a moan, but
the soldier who had been sent to torture him — it was Bruno,
I've heard him tell the story — he went to the Captain and he
said : ' Captain, I can't do this work any longer.' * Can't you,
now? * said the Captain, taunting him. ' Then perhaps you can
do the other man's work instead ? ' ' Give it to me if you like,'
said Bruno; 'I'm willing, and by God I'll bear it better than
my own. ' "
' " And they did ? "

" They did, sir, and Bruno and Mr. Rossi were side by
side. Their trouble didn't last long, though. It got known
outside, and there was a great agitation, and that liberated
both of them."

" Somebody inside the Castle must have told the story ? "

" I did — I was laundress in the barracks then, sir, but I had
to leave after that, and mother and father, who had lived there
since I can remember, were turned out too. It didn't matter in
the end, though. I married Bruno shortly afterward and we
came to keep house for Mr. Rossi, and then he persuaded the
landlord to take father as porter in the lodge below."

At that moment the room, which had been gloomy, was
suddenly lighted by a shaft of sunshine, and there came from
some unseen place a musical noise like the rippling of waters
in a fountain.

"It's the birds," said the woman, and she threw open a

THE REPUBLIC OF MAN 63

window that was also a door and led to a flat roof on which
some twenty or thirty canaries were piping and shrilling their
little swollen throats in a gigantic bird-cage.

" Mr. Eossi's ? "

" Yes, and he is fond of animals also — dogs and cats and
rabbits and squirrels — especially squirrels."

" Squirrels ? "

" He has a grey one in a cage on the roof now. But he is
not like some people who love animals — he loves children, too.
He loves all children, and as for Joseph . . ."

" The little boy who cried ' Uncle David ' at the door ? "

" Yes, sir. One day Bruno said ' Uncle David ' to Mr.
Eossi, and he has been Uncle David to my little Joseph ever
since."

" Your husband and Mr. Eossi are not very much alike,
though, are they ? "

" They're as different as can be, sir — different in everything.
Bruno never wore a collar, not to speak of a dress coat, while
Mr. Eossi is the gentleman through and through. Then Bruno
is manly and genial and kindly, and though they call him an
anarchist, the only explosions he makes are explosions of
laughter, but he is a terrible fighter for all that, and he
wouldn't shrink from any insult he could hurl at a foe, whereas
Mr. Eossi . . ."

"Yes?"

" Mr. Eossi is hasty and passionate, but he couldn't hate
his worst enemy, and when they hurl their insults at him —
' They hurt nobody but myself,' he says."

" Meaning by that ? "

" That he has no wife and child to make him feel them
tenfold. There's one person he can never forgive, though."

"Who is that?"

"Himself; and if he thought he had done anybody an in-
jury he would walk barefoot to every Basilica in the city."

Her cheeks were flushed and her timid eyes were brave and
brilliant, like the eyes of one who looks on the sun at its setting
and finds it bigger and brighter and more glorious for the
vapour of the earth through which he sees it.

" This is the dining-room, no doubt," said the stranger in
his chilling voice.

"Unfortunately, yes, sir."

" Why unfortunately ? "

" Because there is the hall, and here is the table, and tliere'^

64 THE ETERNAL CITY

not even a curtain between, and the moment the door is opened
he is exposed to everybody. People know it, too, and they take
advantage. He would give the chicken off his plate if he
hadn't anything else. I have to scold him a little sometimes
— I can't help it. And as for father, he says he has doubled
his days in purgatory by the lies he tells, turning people
away."

" That will be his bedroom, I suppose," said the stranger,
indicating a door which the boy had passed through.

" Xo, sir, his sitting-room. That is where he receives his
colleagues in Parliament, and his fellow-journalists, and his
electors and printers and so forth. Come in, sir."

The walls were covered with portraits of Mazzini, Garibaldi,
Jvossuth, Lincoln, Washington, and Cromwell, and the room,
which had been furnished originally with chairs covered in
chintz, was loaded with incongruous furniture.

" Joseph, you've been naughty again ! My little boy is all
for being a porter, sir. He has got the butt-end of his father's
fishing-rod, you see, and torn his handkerchief into shreds to
make a tassel for his mace." Then with a sweep of the arm,
" All presents, sir. He gets presents from all parts of the
world. The piano is from England, but nobody plays, so
it is never opened ; the books are from Germany, and the
bronze is from France, but the strangest thing of all, sir, is
this."

" A phonograph ? "

" It was most extraordinary. A week ago a cylinder came
from the Island of Elba."

" Elba? From some prisoner perhaps? "

" A dying man's message, Mr. Rossi called it. ' We must
save up for an instrument to reproduce it, Sister,' he said.
But, look you, the very next day the carriers brought the phono-
graph."

" And then he reproduced the message ? "

" I don't know — I never asked. He often turns on a cylin-
der to amuse the boy, but I never knew him try that one. This
is the bedroom, sir — you may come in."

It was a narrow room, very bright and lightsome, with its
white counterpane, white bed curtains, and white veil over the
looking-glass to keep it from the flies.

" How sweet ! " said the stranger.

" It would be but for these," said the woman, and she
pointed to the other end of the room, where a desk stood

THE REPUBLIC OF MAX 65

between two windows, amid heaps of unopened newspapers,
which lay like fishes as they fall from the herring net.

" I presume this is a present also ? " said the stranger. He
had taken from the desk a dagger with a lapis-lazuli handle,
and was trying its edge on his finger-nail.

" Yes, sir, and he has turned it to account as a paper-knife.
A six-chambered revolver came yesterday, but he had no use
for that, so he threw it aside, and it lies under the news-
papers."

" And who is this ? " said the stranger. He was looking at
a faded picture in an ebony frame which hung by the side of the
bed. It was the portrait of an old man with a beautiful fore-
head and a patriarchal face.

" Some friend of Mr. Rossi's in England, I think."

" An English photograph, certainly, but the face seems to
me Roman for all that. Ah ! this is English enough, though,"
said the stranger. He had taken from its nail a similar picture
frame, half hidden by the bed curtain. It contained a small
framed manuscript, such as in old times devout persons drew
up as a covenant with God, and kept constantly beside them.

" E[e loves England, sir, and is never tired of talking of its
glory and greatness. He loves its language, too, and writes all
liis private papers in English, I believe."

At that moment a thousand lusty voices burst on the air, as
a great crowd came pouring out of the narrow lanes into the
broad piazza. At the same instant the boy shouted from the
adjoining room, and another voice that made the walls vibrate
came from the direction of the door.

" They're coming ! It's my husband ! Bruno ! " said the
woman, and the ripple of her dress told the stranger she had
gone.

He stood where she left him, with the little ebony picture
frame in his hand ; and while the people in the street sang the
Craribaldi hymn, and came marching to the tune of it, he read
the words that were written in English under cover of the
glass :

" From what am I called 9

From the love of riches, from the love of honoiir, from the love of
home, and from the love of irnman.

To what am. I called ?

To poverty, to purity, to obedience, to the ivorship of God, and to the
service of humanity.

QQ THE ETERNAL CITY

Why am I called ?

Because it has pleased the Almighty to make me friendless, home-
less, a wanderer, an exile, without father or mother, sister or brother,
kith or kin.

Hoping my heart deceives me not, with fear and trembling I sign
my unworthy name.

D. L. — London."

Ill

Laughing, crying, cheering, chaffing, singing, David Rossi's
people had brought him home in triumph, and now they were
crowding upon him to kiss his hand, the big-hearted, baby-
headed, beloved children of Italy.

The object of this aurora of worship stood with his back
to the table in the dining-room, looking down and a little
ashamed, while Bruno, six feet three in his stockings, hoisted
the boy on to his shoulder, and shouted as from a tower to
everybody as they entered by the door:

" Come in, sonny, come in ! Don't stand there like the
Pope betM'een the devil and the deep sea. Come in among the
people," and Bruno's laughter rocked through the room to
where the crowd stood thick on the staircase. " We've given
them a dose to-day, haven't we ? Old Angelelli looked as green
as a grasshopper. See him ? He meant to pour the entire penal
code on the master, and accuse him of every crime in Christen-
dom. Robbing a safe, high treason, high fiddle-stick, and
Heaven knows what! Tenfold sentence to death, loss of all
rights in this world and the next, and the scaffold swindled
because he has only one head to sweep off."

" The Baron has had a lesson, too," said a man with a sheet
of white paper in his hand. "He dreamed of getting the
Collar of the Annunziata out of this."

" The pig dreamed of acorns," said Bruno.

" But he knows now that government by chief of police
won't work as well as government by Parliament."

" If a man brings wolves into the house with* the children
he must expect to hear them cry," said Bruno.

" It's a lesson to the Church as well," said the man with the
paper. " She wouldn't have anything to do with us. ' T alone
strike the hour of the march,' says the Church."

" And then she stands still ! " said Bruno.

" The mountains stand still, but men are made to walk,"

THE REPUBLIC OP MAN f,7

said the man with the paper, " and if the Pope doesn't advance
with the people, the people must advance without the Pope."

" The Pope's all right, sonny,'' said Bruno, " but what does
he know about the people ? Only what his black-gowned beetles
tell him!"

" The Pope has no wife and children," said the man with the
paper.

" Old Vampire could find him a few," said Bruno, and then
there was general laughter.

" Brothers," said David Rossi, " let us be temperate.
There's nothing to be gained by playing battledore and shuttle-
cock with the name of an old man who has never done harm to
any one. The Pope hasn't listened to us to-day, but he is a
saint all the same, and his life has been a lesson in well-doing."

" Anybody can sail with a fair wind, sir," said Bruno.

" What has happened to-day," said Rossi, " has convinced
me that the people have no helper but God, and no justice but
His law. But let us be prudent. There's no need for violence,
whether of the hand or of the tongue. That man is strongest
who is strong through suffering and resignation. You've found
that out this morning. If you had rescued me from the police,
I shoidd have been in prison again by this time, and God knows
what else might have happened. I'm proud of your patience
and forbearance; and now go home, boys, and God bless you."

" Stop a minute ! " said the man with the paper. " Some-
thing to read before we go. While the Carabineers kept Mr.
Rossi in the Borgo the Committee of Direction met in a cafe
and drew up a proclamation."

" Read it, Luigi," said David Rossi, and the man opened
his paper and read :

" Having appealed in vain to Parliament and to the King
against the tyrannical tax which the Government has imposed
upon bread in order that the army and navy may be increased,
and having appealed in vain to the Pope to intercede with the
Civil authorities, and call back Italy to its duty, it now be-
hoves us, as a suffering and perishing people, to act on our own
behalf. Unless annulled by royal decree, the tax will come into
operation on the first of February. On that day let every
Roman remain indoors until an hour after Ave Maria. Let
nobody buy so much as one loaf of bread, and let no bread be
eaten, except svich as you give to your children. Then at the
first hour of night, let us meet in the Coliseum, tens of thou-
sands of fasting people, of one mind and heart, to determine

68 THE ETERNAL CITY

what it is our duty to do next, that our bread may be sure and
our water may not fail."

"Good!" "Beautiful!" "Splendid!"

" Only wants the signature of the president," said the
reader, and Bruno called for pen and ink.

" Before I sign it," said David Rossi, " let it be understood
that none come armed. Is that a promise? "

" Yes," said several voices, and David Rossi signed the
paper.

" And now, brothers," said Rossi, taking out of his breast-
pocket the oblong notebook which he had used in the piazza,
" while you were writing in the cafe I was wi'iting in the cell,
and since we have read our proclamation we will also read our
creed and charter."

" Good ! "

" I call it that because our enemies are telling us we don't
know what we want or what we are doing. We are visionaries,
dreamers, millennarians, and religious anarchists, and our
vaporous hallucinations woidd hurry society to dissolution and
death ! "

" They don't understand oiir Latin," said Bruno.

" Time they did, Bruno," said Rossi, " and that's why I
wrote this paper."

" Read it," cried many A'oices, and David Rossi opened his
\)(H>\<. and read :

" ' The Republic of Man. Our Creed and Charter. Our
Charter is the Lord's Prayer! ' "

" Good again ! " cried Bruno.

" They'll tell us we've got the sacred sickness, brothers, but
we'll remind them that revolutions made in the name of inter-
est, of politics, of parties, and of imperialism always fail, while
revolutions made in the name of religion may drop back, but
they never die until they have achieved their victory."

" God doesn't pay wages on Saturday, but He pays! " said
Bruno, and then the company composed themselves to listen.

" ' The Lord's Prayer contains six clauses.

"'Three of these clauses concern chiefly the S]nritual life
of man, lhe other three concern chiefly the temjioral life
of man.

" ' The Lord's Prayer says : Ovr Father who art in Heaven.

" ' Tf God is the father of all men, all men are brothers, and
as brothers all men are equal.

" ' Therefore, all authority arrogated by man over man is

THE REPUBLIC OF MAN 69

wrong. All government of man over man is wrong. Hence
kings have no right to exist.

" ' If all men are brothers, all men should live as brothers.
To live as brothers is to live in peace and concord.

" ' Therefore, all war between nation and nation is wrong.
Hence armies have no right to exist. National frontiers have
no right to exist. The national spirit which is called patriot-
ism has no right to exist.

"'The Lord's Prayer says: Give us this day our daily
bread.

" ' Our daily bread comes from the land. No man made the
land. It is God's gift to mankind. It belongs to all men.
Therefore, individual ownership of land is wrong. Individual
control of the fruits of the land is wrong.

"'The Lord's Prayer says: Thy Kingdom come; Thy will
he done in earth as it is done in Heaven.

" ' If we may pray Thy Kingdom come, we may expect it to
come. If God's Kingdom is not to come on earth as it is in
Heaven, if it is only a dream, then the Lord's Prayer is a de-
lusion, a cruel mockery, and a betrayal of the hearts and hopes
of the human family ! ' "

" Right ! " " Good ! " " Bravo ! " " That will give them
something to think about ! " And the man who read the
proclamation said, " The Church has spent centuries over the
theology of the Lord's Prayer — time she began to think of its
sociology also."

" That's our Charter as I see it, gentlemen," said David
Rossi, " and now for the Creed we deduce from it."

"Hush! Silence!"

" ' We believe that the source of all right and all power is
God.

" ' We believe that Government exists to secure to all men
equally the natural rights to whi«h .they are born as sons
of God.

" ' We believe that all governments must derive their power
from the people governed.

" ' We believe that no artificial differences among men can
constitute a basis of good government.

" ' We believe that when a government is destructive of the
natural rights of man it is man's duty to destroy it.' "

" Bravo ! " came in many voices, and there was some clap-
ping of hands, but without any change of tone David Rossi
went on reading:

70 THE ETERNAL CITY

" ' We believe that all forms of violence are contrary to the
spirit of God's law. ' "

"Ah!"

" ' We believe that prayer and protest are the only weapons
of warfare which humanity may use — prayer addressed to God,
protest addressed to man.

" ' We believe that they are the most effectual weapons
humanity has ever used against the evils of the world.

" ' We believe that they are the only weapons used or coun-
tenanced by Christ.

" ' We believe that where they do not take effect in them-
selves they take double effect in suffering.' "

"Ah!"

" ' We believe . . .' "

" ^o ! " " Yes ! " " It's a long game, though ! " " Hush ! "
" Go on, sir! "

" ' We believe that it is the duty of all men to use the
Lord's Praj'er, to believe in it, to live according to its light,
and to protest against everything which is opposed to its
teaching.

" ' We believe this is the only way man can help to bring to
pass the Kingdom of God on earth as it is in Heaven.

" ' Therefore in the sure and certain hope of that kingdom
— by the love we bear to the brothers whom God has given us —
by the hate we feel for injustice and wrong — by the memory
of the martyrs — by the sufferings of the people — we dedicate
ourselves as subjects and servants of the Republic of Man.

" ' And to its Creed and Charter we hereto subscribe our
names, in the name of Him who taught us to pray:

" ' Our Father who art in Heaven —

" ' Hallowed be Thy name —

" ' Thy Kingdom come — Thy will be done in earth as it is in
Heaven —

" ' Give us this day our daily bread —

"'And forgive «s our trespasses as ive forgive tfiem that trespass
against us.

" ' A7id lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.' "

" Amen ! " said the coiVipany, fifty voices at once.

" That is our idea as I understand it," said David Rossi,
" so I've signed my name to it, and those who agree with me
may do the same. And as grand results may flow from trivial
causes, the Republic of Man from this day forward will be

THE REPUBLIC OF MAN Yl

a reality, and not a dream, watching parliaments, discussing
measures, taking up the defence of prisoners and demanding
justice for the oppressed, until without a throne or legal title
it holds a sovereign power throughout the world, stronger than
any sceptre on earth."

With that he tore out of his notebook a leaf covered on one
side with the most delicate characters, and in a moment there
was a movement toward the table.

" Great, sir ! Great ! " said the man who had read the
proclamation. " They'll say we're setting up a new church,
though."

" There's room for one between the Vatican and the
Quirinal," said Bruno.

" A big church, too," said the man. " The church outside
the churches."

" Old Vampire will have something else to think of besides
his dear little Donna Romas when he gets hold of this," said
somebody, and again there was general laughter.

As the men signed the paper they passed out of the apart-
ment, laughing and talking, and their voices died away in
drumming sounds down the staircase. When it came to
Bruno's turn he put the boy to stand on the table.

" Here goes ! " he said. " Every kick sends the ass on," and
with his tongue in his cheek he signed his name in letters as
shapeless as an old shoe.

There was only one man left. It was the fashionable young
Roman with the watchful eyes and twirled-up moustache. He
took up the pen last, and signed " Charles Minghelli."

David Rossi looked at him and read the name he had writ-
ten.

" For you, sir ! " said the yovmg man, taking a letter from
a pocket inside his waistcoat.

David Rossi opened the letter and read : " The bearer of
this is one of ourselves. He has determined upon the accom-
plishment of a great act, and wishes to see you with respect
to it."

" You come from London ? "

" Yes, sir."

" You wish to speak to me ? "

" I do."

" You may speak freely."

The young man glanced in the direction of Bruno and of
Bruno's wife, who stood beside him.

72 TPIE ETERNAL CITY

" It is a delicate matter, sir," he said.

" Come this way," said David Kossi, and he took the
stranger into his bedroom.

IV

David Rossi took his seat at the desk between the windows,
and made a sign to tlie man to take a chair that stood near.
Tlie man was something of a dandy, and as he sat down he
pulled up his trousers at the knees, stretched his arms to shoot
out his cuflFs, and threw vip his neck to adjust his collar.

" Your name is Charles Minghelli ? " said David Rossi.

" Yes. I have come to propose a dangerous enterprise."

" What is it ? "

" That somebody on behalf of the people should take the
law into his own hands."

The man had spoken with perfect calmness, and after a
moment of silence David Rossi replied as calmly:

" I will ask you to exi)lain Avhat you mean."

The man smiled, made a deferential gesture, and answered,
" You will permit me to speak plainly ? "

" Certainly."

" Thanks ! I have heard your Creed and Charter. I have
even signed my name to it. It is beautiful as a theory — most
beautiful ! And the Republic of Man is beautiful too. It is
like one of the associations of the early Church, a state within
a state, the real government, the real constitution, without
authority, without crowns, without armies, yet intended to rule
the world by the voluntary allegiance of mankind. Beautiful ! "

"Well?"

" But more beautiful than practical, dear sir, and the ideal
tliread that runs through your plan will break the moment the
rough world begins to tug at it."

" I will ask you to be more precise," said David Rossi.

" With pleasure. You have proclaimed a meeting in the
Coliseum to protest against the bread-tax. What if the Gov-
ernment prohibits it? Your principle of passive resistance
will not permit you to rebel, and without the right of public
meeting your association is powerless. Then where are you ? "

David Rossi had taken up his paper-knife dagger and was
drawing lines with the ]ioint of it on the letter of introduction
which nf)w lay open on the desk. The man saw the impression
he had produced, and went on with more vigour.

THE REPUBLIC OF MAN 73

" One of your people said you would be accused of setting
up a new church, but while I listened to you, dear sir, I thought
I could hear one of the Fathers of the old faith teaching over
again the fatal resignation of Catholicism. He who suffers is
stronger than he who fights ! Obey the lawful authorities ! Be
subject to the higher powers ! Render unto Csesar the things
which are Caesar's ! Tribute to whom tribute is due ! Custom
to whom custom! Fear to whom fear. That has been the
doctrine of the Catholic Church for ages. And what has it
brought the Church to? To what it is in Rome to-day — a
butterfly whose body has been eaten away by spiders, leaving
nothing but the beautiful, useless, powerless wings ! "

David Rossi had put down the dagger, and was listening
with closed eyes. The man watched the quivering of his eye-
lids, smiled slightly, and continued:

" If the governments of the world deny you the right of
meeting, where are your weapons of warfare? What is the
battering-ram with which you are going to make your breach in
the world's Porta Pia? On the one side armies on armies of
men marshalled and equipped with all the arts and engines of
war; on the other side a helpless multitude with their hands in
their pockets, or paying a penny a week subscription to the
great association that is to overcome by passive suffering the
power of the combined treasuries of the world ! "

David Rossi had risen from his seat, and was walking back-
ward and forward with a step that was long and slow.

" Well, and what do you say we ought to do ? " he said.

" Cease to abandon ourselves to the caprices of a tyrant, and
assert the rights of man," said the stranger.

" In what way are the people of Rome to assert the rights
of man ? " said David Rossi.

" The people of Rome — I didn't say that. We know what
the Romans are. Patient ? Yes — the only virtue of the ass !
Peaceful? N'o doubt — or they would have been suffocated long
ago in this police-ridden state. They are like their climate —
the scirocco is in their bones, and they have nerve for nothing.
Somebody must act for them. Somebody like you, who has
come back to the old world nerved and refreshed by the
bracing airs of freedom which blow across the new — one of the
great souls who are beacons on the path of humanity . . ."

" Be definite — what are we to do? " said David Rossi.

A flash came from the man's eyes, and he said in a thick
voice :

6

74 THE ETERNAL CITY

" Remove the one man in Rome whose hand crushes the
nation."

"The Prime Minister?"

" Yes."

There was silence.

" You expect me to do that ? "

" No ! I will do it for you. . . . Why not ? If violence is
wrong it is right to resist violence."

David Rossi returned to his seat at the desk, touched the
letter of introduction, and said :

" That is the great act referred to in this letter from Lon-
don ? "

" Yes. It isn't pretty, is it ? But don't think I'm mad.
I know what I'm saying. I have thought of this plan and
brooded over it, until it has attained a gigantic power over me
and become stronger than myself."

David Rossi turned full round on the man.

" Why do you come to me ? " he said.

" Because you can help me to accomplish this act. You
are a Member of Parliament, and can give me cards to the
Chamber. You can show me the way to the Prime Minister's
room in Monte Citorio, and tell me .the moment when he is to
be found alone."

David Rossi's face was pale, but when he spoke his voice
was calm — with the calmness of a frozen lake that has a river
running underneath.

" I do not deny that the Prime Minister deserves death."

" A thousand deaths, sir, and everybody would hail them
with delight."

" I do not deny that his death would be a blessing to the
people."

" On the day he dies, sir, the people will live."

" Or that crimes — great crimes — have been the means of
bringing about great reforms."

" You are right, sir — but it would be no crime."

" Nor should I say that to take the life of a tyrant is to be
guilty of murder."

" Oh, they knew what they were doing when they sent me
to you, sir."

David Rossi spoke calmly but with great earnestness.

" The man," he said, " who goes openly into the presence
of the oppressor and kills him face to face, then stands to be
arrested or torn in pieces, takes his trial, pleads guilty, says,

THE REPUBLIC OP MAN Y5

' I did not kill the Baron Bonelli, I killed the Prime Minister ;
I did not kill the man, I killed the institution; condemn me,
hang me, shoot me, bury me alive, intomb me in a cell not
much bigger than a coffin, where I shall see no human face, and
hear no human voice, I am content; I await the coming revo-
lution ' — let the world call him what it will, madman, fanatic,
fool — that man needs some other name than assassin."

The stranger's face flushed up, his eyes seemed to burn, and
he leaned over to the desk and took up the dagger.

" See ! Give me this ! It's exactly what I want. I'll put
it in a bouquet of flowers, and pretend to offer them. Only a
way to do it, sir ! Say the word — may I take it ? "

" But the man who assumes such a mission," said David
Rossi, " must know himself free from every thought of personal
vengeance."

The dagger trembled in the stranger's hand.

" He must be prepared to realise the futility of what he
has done — to know that even when he succeeds he only changes
the persons not the things, the actors not the parts. And when
he fails he must be prepared to find that wounded tyranny
has no mercy, and threatened despotism has tightened its
chains."

The man stood like one who has been stunned, with his
mouth partly open, and balancing the dagger on one hand.

" More than that," said David Rossi, " he must be prepared
to be told by every true friend of freedom that the man who
uses force is not worthy of liberty — that the conflict of intel-
lects alone is human, and to fight otherwise is to be on the level
of the brute — that we are men, and that the human weapon
is the brain, not the claws and the teeth, and that all victories
other than the victories of the brain and heart are barbarous
and bestial — shed around them what halo you will."

The man threw the dagger back on the desk and laughed.

" I knew you talked like that to the people — statesmen do
sometimes — that's all right — it's pretty, and it keeps the peo-
ple quiet — but we know . . ."

David Rossi rose with a sovereign dignity, but he only
said:

" Mr. Minghelli, our interview is at an end."

A change had come over the face of the stranger, and the
watchful eyes now wore a ferocious expression. But he only
flipped a speck of dust off his coat, and said :

" So you dismiss me ? "

Y6 THE ETERNAL CITY

David Eossi bowed in silence. The man gave a furious side-
glance and stepped to the door.

" Now that you know what I am, perhaps you will scratch
my name off your Creed and Charter, and tell them in London
to turn me out of their brotherhood ? "

" You turn yourself out, sir. You have nothing in common
with the people, and have no right to be among them."

The man's profile at the door was frightful.

" It is such men as you," said David Rossi, " who put
back the progress of the world and make it possible for the
upholders of authority to describe our efforts as devilish
machinations for the destruction of all order, human and di-
vine. Besides that, you speak as one who has not only a
perverted political sentiment, but a personal quarrel against
an enemy."

The man faced around sharply, came back with a quick step,
and said:

" You say I speak as one who has a personal quarrel with
the Prime Minister. Perhaps I have! I heard your speech
this morning about his mistress, with her livery of scarlet and
gold. You meant the woman who is known as Donna Roma
Volonna. What if I tell you she is not a Volonna at all, but
a girl the Minister picked up in the streets of London, and has
palmed off on Rome as the daughter of a noble house, because
he is a liar and a cheat ? "

David Rossi gave a start, as if an invisible hand had smit-
ten him in the face.

" Her name is Roma, certainly," said the man, with a flash
in his eyes, " that was the first thing that helped me to seize
the mysterious thread."

David Rossi's face grew pale, and he scarcely breathed.

" Oh, I'm not talking without proof," said the man, seeing
that his words went home. " I was at the Embassy in London
ten years ago when the Ambassador was consulted by the
police authorities about an Italian girl, who had been found
at night in Leicester Square. Mother dead, father gone back
to Italy — she had been living with some people her father gave
her to as a child, but had turned out badly and run away."

David Rossi had fixed his eyes on the stranger with a kind
of glassy stare.

" I went with the Ambassador to Bow Street, and saw the
girl in the magistrate's ofiice. She pleaded that she had been
ill-treated, but we didn't believe her story, and gave her back

THE REPUBLIC OF MAN 77

to her guardians. A month later we heard that she had run
away once more and disappeared entirely."

David Rossi was breathing audibly, and shrinking like an
old man into his shoulders.

" I never saw that girl again until a week ago, and where
do you think I saw her ? "

David Rossi swallowed his saliva, and said :

"Where?"

" In Rome. I had trouble at the Embassy, and came back
to appeal to the Prime Minister. Everybody said I must reach
him through Donna Roma, and one of my relatives took me to
her rooms. The moment I set eyes on her I knew who she
was. Donna Roma Volonna is the girl Roma Roselli, who was
lost in the streets of London."

David Rossi seemed suddenly to grow taller.

" You scoundrel ! " he said, in a voice that was hollow and
choked.

The man staggered back and stammered :

"Why . . . what . . ."

" I knew that girl."

" You knew ..."

" Until she was seven years of age she was my constant
companion — she was the same as my sister — and her father
was the same as my father — and if you tell me she is the
mistress . . . You infamous wretch ! You calumniator ! You
villain ! I could confound you with one word, but I won't.
Out of my house this moment. And if ever you cross my
path again I'll denounce you to the police as a cut-throat and
an assassin."

Stunned and stupefied, the man opened the door and fled.

" By the Holy Virgin, little one, I must have a word in that
argument," said Bruno in the dining-room, with kindling eyes
and clenched fist.

But at the next moment the stranger came flying out, and
Bruno contented himself with making the sign with the finger
to avert the evil eye as the man's pallid face disappeared
through the outer door.

" Just one of his white heats," said Bruno, under his breath,
with a side-glance at the bedroom. " He'll do something some
day."

78 THE ETERNAL CITY

" Heaven and the saints forbid ! " said Bruno's wife, and
then David Rossi came out with his long, slow step, looking
pale but calm, and tearing up a letter into small pieces, which
he threw into the fire.

Little Joseph, who had been busy with his mace, rushed
upon Rossi with a shout, and when Rossi rose from stooping
over the boy, his face was red and the tones of his voice were
natural.

" What was amiss, sir ? They could hear you across the
street," said Bruno.

" A man whose room was better than his company, that's
all."

" What's his name," said Bruno, consulting the sheet which
the company had signed. '' ' Charles Minghelli ' ? Why, that
must be the Secretary who was suspected of forgery at the
Embassy in London, and got dismissed."

" I thought as much ! " said David Rossi. " No doubt the
man attributed his dismissal to the Prime Minister, and wanted
to use me for his private revenge."

" That was his game, was it ? Why didn't you let me know,
sir? He would have gone downstairs like a falling star. You
turned him out, though, and he'll tie that on his finger, at all
events. He is as fine as a razor, but he looks as if he carried
a small arsenal on his hip. He's stuff to take with a pair of
tongs, anyway, and now that I remember, he's the nephew of
old Palomba, the Mayor, and I've seen him at Donna Roma's.
' Charles Minghelli ? ' Of course ! That was the name on a
letter she gave me to post, in one of her perfumed violet en-
velopes, with her monogram engraved on the front of it."

There was a thumping knock at that moment, and the
boy, who had been playing with the buttons of David Rossi's
coat, shouted :

" Me ! Me ! " and, seizing his mace, marched with a strut to
the door and opened it.

" Who is it ? " said the boy within.

" Friends," said a voice without.

A waiter in a white smock, with a large tin box on his head,
entered the hall, and behind him came the old woman from
the porter's lodge, with the wrinkled face and the red cotton
handkerchief.

" Come in," cried Bruno. " I ordered the best dinner in
the Trattoria, sir, and tliought we might perhaps dine together
for once."

THE REPUBLIC OP MAN . Y9

" Good," said David Rossi.

" Here it is, a whole basketful of the grace of God, sir !
Out with it, Riccardo," and while the wohaen laid the table,
Bruno took the dishes smoking hot from their temporary oven
with its charcoal fire.

" Artichokes — good. Chicken — ^good again. I must be a
fox — I was dreaming of chicken all last night! Gnocchi!
(potatoes and flour baked.) Agradolce! (sour and sweet.)
Fagioletti! (French beans boiled) and — a half flask of Chianti!
Who said the son of my mother couldn't order a dinner? All
right, Riccardo, come back at Ave Maria."

The waiter went off, and the company sat down to their
meal, Bruno and his wife at either end of the table, and David
Rossi on the sofa, with the boy on his right, and the cat curled
up into his side on the left, while the old woman stood in front,
serving the food and removing the plates.

" I'm as hungry as a wolf and as thirsty as a sponge," said
Bruno, sticking his knife into the chicken.

" Bruno," said his wife with a warning look, and a glance
at Joseph, who, with eyes dubiously closed, was bringing his
little hands together.

" Oh ! All right, Elena ! Go ahead, little one," and while
Bruno sat with his fists on the table and knife and fork pointing
heavenwards, Joseph said six words of grace.

" Good for you, Giuseppe-Mazzini-Garibaldi ! Short text,
long sermon ! We'll take a long drink on the strength of it.
Let me fill up your glass, sir. IsTo? Tut! Drink wine and
leave water to the mill."

And, while they ate and drank, the little April gales of
gossip went flying around the room, with fitful gleams of sun-
shine and some passing showers.

" Look at him ! " said the old woman, who was deaf, pointing
to David Rossi, with his two neighbours. " Now, why doesn't
the Blessed Virgin give him a child of his own ? "

" She has, mother, and here he is," said David Rossi.

" You'll let her give him a woman first, won't you ? " said
Bruno.

" Ah ! that will never be," said David Rossi.

" What does he say ? " said the old woman, with her hand
at her ear like a shell.

"He says he won't have any of you," bawled Bruno.

" What an idea ! But I've heard men say that before, and
they've been married sooner than you could say ' Hail Mary.' "

80 • THE ETERNAL CITY

" It isn't an incident altogether unknown in the history of
this planet, is it, mother ? " said Bruno.

" The man who doesn't marry must have a poor opinion of
women," said the old woman.

" And a poor opinion of the Almighty, too," said Bruno.
" Male and female created He them — at least, I am led to
believe so every day of my life."

" Men will be talking," said Elena. " Go on with your
dinner, Bruno, and don't raise your voice so."

" There are only two kinds of women, sir — ordinary women
and your wife," said Bruno, winking gaily.

" And there are only two kinds of men — sensible men and
your husband," said Elena.

" The horse's kick doesn't hurt the mare, you see," said
Bruno. " But women, bless their sweet faces, are the springs
of everything in this world — man-springs especially."

" A heart to share your sorrows and joys is something, and
the man is not. wise who wastes the chance of it," said the old
woman. " Does he think parliaments will make up for it when
he grows old and wants something to comfort him ? "

" Hush, mother ! " said Elena, but Bruno made mouths at
her to let the old woman go on.

" As for me, I'll want somebody of my own about me to
close my eyes when the time comes to put the sacred oil on
them," said the old woman.

And then David Rossi, with the sweetness of his voice in
conversation, said, " I know that a woman's love is the strong-
est and purest and best in the world except the love of God, yet
if I found myself caring too much for any one I should run
away."

" That's right, sir. In the battle of love he wins who flies,"
said Bruno.

" If a man has dedicated his life to work for humanity,"
said David Rossi, " he must give up many things— father,
mother, wife, child. He must bid a long farewell to all earthly
aifections, and be prepared to become, if need be, a homeless
wanderer, treading a path which he knows beforehand will be
choked with sorrows."

The corner of Elena's apron crept up to the corner of her
eye, but the old woman, who thought the subject had changed,
laughed and said :

" That's just what I say to Tommaso. * Tommaso,' I say,
* if a man is going to be a policeman he must have no father,

THE REPUBLIC OF MAN 81

or mother, or wife, or child — no nor bowels neither,' I say. And
Tommaso says, ' Francesca,' he says, ' the whole tribe of gentry
they call statesmen are just policemen in plain clothes, and I
do believe they've only liberated Mr. Rossi as a trap to catch
him again when he has done something.' "

" They won't catch you though, will they, mother ? " shouted
Bruno.

" That they won't ! I'm deaf, praise the saints, and can't
hear them."

" Beautiful dispensation of Providence in a witness ! Let
me examine you, mother. Three questions the police ask a
woman to begin with."

"Eh?"

" Three questions," bawled Bruno. " What's your name
and your father's name, how old are you, and how many chil-
dren have you got ? Xow, let's see how you know your lesson —
how old are you, mother ? "

" Francesca Maria fu Giuseppe," answered the old woman.

" My mistake, mother — how many children have you
got?"_

" Sixty-seven, your worship."

" Excellent witness! " said Bruno, and he laughed until he
cried.

Another knock came from the staircase.

" Me ! Me ! " cried the boy, and the mace with its tattered
handkerchief went to the door again.

"Who is it?"

" Friends."

" Who is it this time, Garibaldi-Mazzini-Washington ? Oh !
Old John again ! "

An old man stood on the threshold. He was one of David
Rossi's pensioners. liinety years of age, his children all dead,
he lived with his grandchildren, and was one of the poor human
rats who stay indoors all day and come out with a lantern at
night to scour the gutters of the city for the refuse of cigar-
ends.

" Come another night, John ! Don't expect the Villa Bor-
ghese, sonny," said Bruno.

But David Rossi would not send him away empty, and he
was going off with the sparkling eyes of a boy, when he said :

"T heard you in the piazza this morning. Excellency!
Grand! Only sorry for one thing."

" And what was that, sonny ? " said Bruno.

82 THE ETERNAL CITY

" What his Excellency said about Donna Roma. She gave
me a half franc only yesterday, sir — stopped the carriage to do
it, too ! "

" So that's your only reason . . ." began Bruno.

" Good reason, too. Good-night, John ! " said David Rossi,
and Joseph closed the door.

" Oh, she has her virtues, like every other kind of spider,"
said Bruno.

" I'm sorry I spoke of her," said David Rossi.

" You needn't be, though. She deserved all she got. I
haven't been two years in her studio without knowing what
she is."

" It was the man I was thinking of, and if I had remem-
bered that the woman must suffer . . ."

" Tut ! She'll have to make her Easter confession a little
earlier, that's all."

" If she hadn't laughed when I was speaking . . ."

" You're on the wrong track now, sir. That wasn't Donna
Roma. It was the little Princess Bellini. She's always stretch-
ing her neck and screeching like an old gandery goose. Do
Donna Roma justice ; she's a better piece than that. Never saw
her, sir ? Oh, a splendid woman ! Stood in the centre of the
balcony, sir — women are as fond of sitting up in a balcony as a
horse of looking over a gate — and if you had seen her there you
would have said she was as sweet to look upon as one of the
apples of Eden, but she's just as cunning as the serpent of
old Nile."

Dinner was now over, and the boy called for the phono-
graph. David Rossi went into the sitting-room to fetch it, and
Elena went in at the same time to light the fire. She was
kneeling with her back to him, blowing on to the wood, when
she said in a trembling voice :

" I'm a little sorry myself, sir, if I may say so. I can't
believe what they say about the mistress, but even if it's true we
don't know her story, do we? "

" Perhaps you're right, sister," said David Rossi.

When he returned to the dining-room with the phonograph,
the dishes had been gathered up, the old grandmother had gone,
and Joseph had ranged two lines of chairs from the table to the
door, back to back, with a space between them, and various
walking-sticks across the top to represent the courtyard to the
palace. And dressed in his father's coat, turned inside oiit to
display a gorgeous lining of red flannel, he was navigating the

THE REPUBLIC OF MAN 83

narrow strait with his mace like a three-decker flying all its
flags, while Bruno, in his shirt sleeves, was laughing until he
shook at the boy's strutting step and whisking tail.

" Laugh too much and you'll get the heart-ache," cried
Elena from the inner room.

" I'm going to be as quiet as oil, mamma," said Bruno, and
he lit a cigar which was twisted like a corkscrew.

Then the phonograph was turned on, and Joseph marched
to the tune of " Swanney River " and the strains of Sousa's
band, while David Rossi leaned on the mantel-piece and
thought of a country far away, where a man is a man and the
air is free.

" Mr. Rossi," said Bruno, between a puff and a blow.

"Yes?"

" Have you tried the cylinder that came first ? "

" Not yet."

"How's that, sir?"

" The man who brought it said the friend who had spoken
into it was dead," and then with a shiver through his teeth,
" It would be like a voice from the grave — I doiibt if I dare
hear it."

" Like a ghost speaking to a man, certainly — especially if
the friend was a close one."

" He was the closest friend I ever had, Bruno— he was
my father."

"Father?"

" Foster father, anyway. For four years he clothed and fed
and educated me, and I was the same as his own son."

" Had he no children of his own ? "

" One little daughter, no bigger than Joseph when I saw her
last — Roma."

"Roma?"

" Yes, her father was a Liberal, and her name was Roma."

He had taken from the mantel-piece the sheet with the
signatures, and was drawing his pen from his pocket. " How
beautiful the child was ! Iler hair was as black as a raven, and
her eyes were like two sloes."

Elena had come back to the room and was standing listen-
ing, with her soiled hands by her side.

" What became of her? " she said.

" When her father came to Italy on the errand which ended
in his imprisonment, he gave her into the keeping of some
Italian friends in London. I was too young to take charge

84 THE ETERNAL CITY

of her then. Besides, I left England shortly afterward and
went to America."

" Where is she now ? " said Elena, and David Rossi struck
out the last name on the list and answered, with his head down :

" When I returned to England . . , she was dead."

" Well, there's nothing new under the sun of Rome — Donna
Roma came from London," said Bruno.

David Rossi felt the muscles of his face quiver.

" Her father was an exile in England, too, and when he
came back on the errand that ended in Elba, he gave her away
to some people who treated her badly — I've heard old Teapot,
the Countess, say so when she's been nagging her poor niece."

David Rossi breathed painfully, and something rose in his
throat.

" Strange if it should be the same," said Bruno.

" But Mr. Rossi's Roma is dead," said Elena.

" Ah, of course, certainly ! What a fool I am ! " said Bruno.

David Rossi had a sense of suffocation, of wanting more
space in the world, and he went out on to the lead flat.

VI

The Ave Maria was ringing from many church towers, and
the golden day was going down with the sun behind the dark
outline of the dome of St. Peter's, while the blue night was
rising over the snow-capped Apennines in a premature twilight
with one twinkling star. A shiver seemed to pass through the
air with the rising of the evening breeze and the rustling of
the fallen leaves, as if the old earth were chattering its teeth.

David Rossi's ears buzzed as with the sound of a mighty
wind rushing through trees at a distance. Bruno's last words
f)u top of Charles Minghelli's had struck him like an alarum
bell heard through the mists of sleep, and his head was stunned
and his eyes were dizzy. He buttoned his coat about him, and
walked quickly to and fro on the lead flat by the side of the
cage, in which the birds were already bunched up and silent.

The night came on rapidly, and as the darkness fell a scroll
of pictures seemed to unfold before his memory, and all of
them in the lurid light of calamity. At one moment he was in
London, the great city under the wing of the fog. Within the
walls of a happy home there was a cheerful fire, a venerable old
naan, a saintly woman, and an innocent child with violet eyes,

THE REPUBLIC OF MAN 85

who sang all day long as if her little breast was a cage of song-
birds. At the next moment he was back in Rome, within the
gilded walls of an old palace, with powdered lacqueys carrying
silver salvers, and the same child grown to be a woman, beauti-
ful, stately, majestic, dressed magnificently and tended like a
queen, but surrounded by an atmosphere of shame. Then a
shudder ran through his blood, and a voice whispered in his
soul, " Better she were dead ! " And listening to this voice he
told himself she was dead, she must be dead, for God was good,
and such a calamity could not be.

Before he was aware of the passing of time, the church bells
were tolling the first hour of night — that solemn sound with its
single stroke first and last, which falls upon the ear with the
chilling reverberation of the bell swinging on a rock in the
open sea. The windows of the convent of Trinita de' Monti
were lit up by this time, and there were dim lights, too, in the
Passionist Monastery. Brides of Christ and children of the
cells, he could see them saying the psalm for the dead, in their
dark church, with one oil lamp burning under the face of the
monk who read the prayers, while his fellow-monks knelt in
the shadows, chanting their responses in voices that echoed as
in a tomb. Happy were they in the simplicity of their life, for
Fate played no cruel part to turn it into a grim and hideous
jest.

" But she is dead," he thought. " God guides our steps to
good ends through all their various faltcrings. He could not
have allowed me to do it ! She is dead ! "

Presently he became aware of flares burning in the Piazza
of St. Peter, and of the shadows of giant heads cast up on the
walls of the vast basilica. It was the crowd gathering for the
last ceremonial of the Pope's Jubilee, and at the sound of a
double rocket, which went up as with the crackle of musketry,
little Joseph came running on to the roof, followed by his
mother and Bruno.

David Rossi took the boy into his arms and tried to disi)el
the gloom of his own spirits in the child's joy at the illumina-
tions. First came twelve strokes of the great bell, then from
the cross on the ball of St. Peter's there burst a tongue of flame,
and then the fire ran round the wide curves of the dome,
leapt along the parapet of the fagade, dropped down the round
columns, vaulted over the pediment, and played about the capi-
tals, the cupolas, the clocks, and the statues of the apostles until
the entire edifice was pricked out in tens of thousands of spark-

86 THE ETERNAL CITY

ling lamps, and the piazza below and the city behind stood
forth in a dazzling white light with deep black shadows.
Another rocket went up, and in a moment the white lights
turned to golden, and the piazza looked like a cauldron over
a fire and the city seemed as if the gates of a vast furnace
had been opened on it. Then the lamps began to burn fitfully
and to go out one by one, and in the broken lines of the
great building a fairyland of magic palaces appeared to
rise up and die down under the supernatural glory of the
failing lights, until the ethereal phantoms had faded bit by
bit, and the Basilica had fallen as it were to ruins and melted
away.

" Ever see 'luminations before, Uncle David ? " said Joseph.

" Once, dear, but that was long ago and far away. I was a
boy myself in those days, and there was a little girl with me
then who was no bigger than you are now. But it's growing
cold, there's frost in the air, besides it's late, and little boys
must go to bed."

" Well, God is God, and the Pope is His Prophet," said
Bruno, when Elena and Joseph had gone indoors. " It was like
day! You could see the lightning conductor over the Pope's
apartment ! Pshew ! " blowing puffs of smoke from his twisted
cigar. " Won't keep the lightning off, though."

" Bruno ! "

"Yes, sir?"

" Donna Roma's father would be Prince Volonna ? "

" Yes, the last prince of the old papal name. When the
Volonna estates were confiscated, the title really lapsed, but old
Vampire got the lands."

" Did you ever hear that he bore any other name during
the time he was in exile ? "

" Sure to, but there was no trial and nothing was known.
They all changed their names, though."

" Why . . . what . . ." said David Rossi in an unsteady
voice.

" Why ? " said Bruno. " Because they were all condemned
in Italy, and the foreign countries were told to turn them out.
But what am I talking about ? You know all that better than
I do, sir. Didn't your old friend go under a false name ? "

" Very likely — I don't know," said David Rossi, in a voice
that testified to jangled nerves.

" Did he ever tell you, sir ? "

"I can't say that be ever . . , Certainly the school of

THE REPUBLIC OF MAN 87

revolution has always had villains enough, and perhaps to pre-
vent treachery . . ."

" You may say so ! The devil has the run of the world,
even in England. But I'm surprised your old friend, being like
a father to you, didn't tell you — at the end anyway . . ."

" Perhaps he intended to — and then perhaps . , ."

David Rossi put his hand to his brow as if in pain and per-
plexity, and began again to walk backward and forward.

A screamer in the piazza below cried Trib-un-a! '^ and
Bruno said :

" That's early ! What's up, I wonder ? I'll go down and
get a paper."

Darkness had by this time re-invaded the sky, and the stars
looked down from their broad dome, clear, sweet, white, and
serene, putting to shame by their immortal solemnity the poor
little mimes, the paltry puppet-shows of the human jackstraws
who had just been worshipping at their self-made shrine.

" The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament
showeth His handiwork."

David Rossi uttered these words aloud, but he tried in vain
to get some of the calmness of the night into his soul. Before
his eyes there passed, as before, the shifting and unsubstantial
scroll of memory. He was back in London again, and under
the great glass roof of a railway station, amid the choking
smoke of the engines and the deafening scream of the steam-
whistles, he was saying " Good-bye " to an old man with a
patriarchal beard. " Good-bye, my son ! I will write to you in
good time, and then I shall have something to say which may
perhaps surprise you. Good-bye, and God bless you." And
then, silence, a face blotted out, a voice buried in a house of
bondage, which closed its doors on a living man and opened
them only to put out a corpse.

Stay ! In the scroll of memory there was one other picture.
Rome once more, and an ex-prisoner from Elba finding him out
in the Chamber of Deputies. "I bring you a dying man's
message," he said, and put into his hand a little cardboard box.
" He lived at large, and had a garden in which he grew flowers
for the children, but he was forbidden to write letters, and the
post was watched." The box contained a cylinder for the
phonograph, and bore this inscription: "For the hands of
D. L. only — to be destroyed if Deputy David Rossi does not
know where to find him."

The Tiber below was running over its bed of mud with

88 THE ETERNAL CITY

a turbulence that was like the tumult in David Rossi's mind,
toiling in darkness and tormented by doubts, and the formless
things sweeping down with the current were like the appari-
tions of fear which he could not bring himself to challenge.
But just then the church clock struck eight, and he thought he
heard a voice saying :

" Have courage ! Dive to the bottom of this mystery !
Heaven is over all ! "

As David Rossi returned to the house, Elena, who was un-
dressing the boy, saw a haggard look in his eyes, but Bnmo,
who was reading his evening journal, saw nothing, and cried
out:

" Helloa ! Listen to this, sir. It's Olga. She's got a pen,
I can tell you. * Madame de Pompadour. Hitherto we have

had the pleasure of having Madame , whose pressure on

the state and on Italy's wise counsellors was only incidental,
but now that the fates have given us a Madame Pompadour
. . .' Then there's a leading article on your speech in the
piazza. Praises you up to the skies. Look ! * Thank God we
have men like the Honourable Rossi, who at the risk of . . .' "

But with a clouded brow David Rossi turned away from
him and passed into the sitting-room, and Bruno looked around
in blank bewilderment.

" Shall you want the lamp, sir ? " said Elena.

" Not yet, thank you," he answered through the open door.

The wood fire was glowing on the hearth, and in the acute
state of his nerves he shuddered involuntarily as its reflection
in the window opposite looked back at him like a fiery eye. He
opened the case of the phonograph, which had been returned to
its place on the piano, and then from a drawer in the bureau
he took a small cardboard box. The wood in the fire flickered
at that moment and started some ghastly shadows on the ceil-
ing, but he drew a cylinder from the box and slid it on to th(>
barrel of the phonograph. Then he stepped to the door, shut
and locked it.

VII

" Well ! " said Bruno. " If that isn't enough to make a
man feel as small as a sardine ! "

There was only one thing to do, but to conceal the nature of
it Bruno flourished the newspaper and said :

" Elena, I must go down to the lodge and read these articles

THE REPUBLIC OP MAN 89

to your father. Poor Donna Roma, she'll have to fly, I'm
afraid. Bye-bye, Garibaldi-Mazzini ! Early to bed, early to
rise, and time enough to grow old, you know ! ... As for Mr.
Rossi, he might be a sinner and a criminal instead of the hero
of the hour ! It licks me to little bits." And Bruno carried his
dark mystery down to the cafe to see if it might be dispelled
by a litre of autumnal light from sunny vineyards.

Meantime, Joseph, being very tired, was shooting out a
pettish lip because he had to go to bed without saying good-
night to Uncle David, and his mother, making terms with this
pretence, consented to bring his nightdress down to him instead
of taking his little body up to it, thinking David Rossi might
be out of the sitting-room by that time, and the boy be pacified.
But when she returned to the dining-room the sitting-room
door was still closed, and Joseph was pleading to be allowed to
lie on the sofa until Uncle David carried him to bed, and after
various promises that he would not sleep he was permitted to lie
down in his nightdress with his day-clothes scattered over him.
All went well for thirty seconds, and then the little curly poll
on the cushion gave undoubted signs of vanquishment in the
great battle of all child-like natures with the mighty monster
sleep.

" I'm not asleep, mamma," came in a drowsy voice from the
sofa, but almost at the same moment the measured breath
slowed down, the watch-lights blinked themselves out, and the
little soul slid away into the darksome kingdom of unconscious-
ness.

A mother's joy is like a child's, and Elena laughed to her-
self as she sat on the other end of the sofa and took up the little
man's garments and smelt them one by one, and then turned
out his pockets and noted their wonderful contents — a cork, a
pebble, a broken button, and a rusty nail.

Suddenly, in the silence of the room, she was startled by a
voice. It came from the sitting-room. Was it Mr. Rossi's
voice ? No ! The voice was older and feebler than Mr. Rossi's,
and less clear and distinct. Could it be possible that somebody
was with him? If so, the visitor must have arrived while she
was in the bedroom above. But why had she not heard the
knock? How did it occur that Joseph had not told her? And
then the lamp was still on the dining-room table, and save
for the firelight, the sitting-room must be dark.

A chill began to run through her blood, and she tried to
hear what was said, but the voice was muffled by its passage
7

90 THE ETERNAL CITY

through the wall, and she could only catch a word or two.
Presently the strange voice, without stopping, was broken in
upon by a voice that was clear and familiar, but now faltering
with the note of pain : " I swear to God I will ! "

That was Mr. Rossi's voice, and Elena's head began to go
round. Whom was he speaking to? Who was speaking to
him ? He went into the room alone, he was sitting in the dark,
find yet there were two voices.

At that moment little Joseph cried in his sleep, and after
she had put him to lie on his side, and comforted him and he
was quiet, she listened again, but all was still. In the blank
silence she was beginning to tell herself that she, too, had
dozed off and been dreaming, when the nightmare came again,
first in the sound of David Rossi's long slow step on the
thin carpet over the tiled floor, and then in a certain whizzing
noise, which was followed after a moment by the same strange
voice.

A light dawned on her, and she could have laughed. What
had terrified her as a sort of supernatural thing was only
the phonograph ! But after a moment a fresh tremor struck
upon her in the agony of the exclamations with which David
Rossi broke in upon the voice that was being reproduced by
the machine. She could hear his words distinctly, and he was
in great trouble. Hardly knowing what she did, she crept up
to the door and listened. Even then, she could only follow the
strange voice in passages, which were broken and submerged
by the whirring of the phonograph, like the flight of a sea-bird
which dips at intervals and leaves nothing but the wash of the
wave.

" David," said the voice, " when this shall come to your
hands ... in my great distress of mind ... do not trifle
with my request . . . but whatever you decide to do ... be
gentle with the child . . . remember that . . . Adieu, my son
. . . the end is near ... if death does not annihilate . . .
those who remain on earth ... a helper and advocate in
heaven . . . Adieu ! " And interrupting these broken words,
were half-smothered cries and sobs from David Rossi, repeat-
ing again and again : " I will ! I swear to God I will ! "

Elena could bear the pain no longer, and mustering up her
courage, she tapped at the door. It was a gentle tap, and no
answer was returned. She knocked louder, and then an angry
voice said :

"Who's there?"

THE REPUBLIC OP MAN 91

" It's I — Elena," she answered timidly. " Is anything the
matter ? Aren't you well, sir ? "

" Ah, yes," came back in a calmer voice, and after a shuffling
sound as of the closing of drawers, David Rossi opened the
door and came out.

As he crossed the threshold he cast a backward glance into
the dark room, as if he feared that some invisible hand would
touch him on the shoulder. His face was pale and beads of
perspiration stood on his forehead, but he smiled, and in a
voice that was a little hoarse, yet fairly under control, he said :

" I'm afraid I've frightened you, Elena."

" You're not well, sir. Sit down, and let me run for some
cognac."

"N'o! It's nothing! Only . . ."

'• Take this glass of water, sir."

" That's good ! I'm better now, and I'm ashamed. Elena,
you mustn't think any more of this, and whatever I may do
in the future that seems to you to be strange, you must promise
me fiever to mention it."

" I needn't promise you that, sir," said Elena.

" Bruno is a brave, bright, loyal soul, Elena, but there are
times ..."

" I know — and I'll never mention it to anybody. But you've
taken a chill on the roof at sunset looking at the illuminations
— that's all it is ! The nights are frosty now, and I was to
blame that I didn't send out your cloak."

And Elena thought, " I'll give two big candles to the Ma-
donna at St. Agostino's, and she'll save him from the fever."

Then she tried to be cheerful, and turning to the sleeping
boy, said :

" Look ! He was naughty again, and wouldn't go to bed
until you came out to carry him."

" The dear little man ! " said David Rossa. He stepped up
to the couch, but his pale face was pre-occupied, and he looked
at Elena again and said :

" Where does Donna Roma live ? "

" Trinita de' Monti — eighteen," said Elena.

"Is it late?"

" It must be half-past eight at least, sir."

" We'll take Joseph to bed then."

He was putting -his arms about the boy to lift him when
a slippery-sloppery step was heard on the stairs, followed by a
hurried knock at the door.

92 THE ETERNAL CITY

It was the old Garibaldian porter, breathless, bareheaded,

and in his slippers.

" Father ! " cried Elena.

" It's she. She's coming up."

At the next moment a lady in evening dress was standing
in the hall. It was Donna Eoma. She had unclasped her
ermine cloak, and her bosom was heaving with the exertion of
the ascent.

" May I speak to Mr. Rossi ? " she began, and then looking
beyond Elena and seeing him, where he stood above the sleep-
ing child, a qualm of faintness seemed to seize her, and she
closed her eyes for a moment.

David Rossi's face flushed to the roots of his hair, but he
stepped forward, bowed deeply, led the way to the sitting-room,
and, with a certain incoherency in his speech, said :

" Come in ! Elena will bring the lamp. I shall be back
presently."

Then lifting little Joseph in his arms, he carried him up to
bed, tucked him in his cot, smoothed his pillow, made the sign
of the cross over his forehead, and came back to the sitting-
room with the air of a man walking in a dream.

vni

As Roma climbed the stairs to David Rossi's rooms, the
conflicting thoughts which had wriggled within like a knot of
Egyptian vipers when she said to the Baron, " I could kill
him," were tormenting her again. But when she reached the
open door, and saw the man himself standing above the sleeping
child, she had a sensation like that which came to her at the
first sound of his voice — a sense of having seen the picture
before somewhere, in some other existence perhaps — and this
opening of an unnamed cell in her memory made her dizzy
and faint.

Then came David Rossi with hia confused speech and man-
ners, followed by the timid woman with the lamp (Bruno's
wife, no doubt) ; and the moment she entered the sitting-room
she felt that she had regained her composure.

Being left alone, she looked around, and at a glance she took
in everything — the thin carpet, the plain chintz, the prints, the
incongruous furniture. She saw the phonograph on the piano,
still standing open, with a cylinder exposed, and in the interval

THE REPUBLIC OP MAN 93

of waiting she felt almost tempted to touch the spring. She
saw herself, too, in the mirror above the mantel-piece, with her
glossy black hair rolled up like a tower, from which one curly
lock escaped on to her forehead, and with the ermine cloak on
her shoulders over the white silk muslin which clung to her
full and lovely figure.

Then she heard David Rossi's footstep returning, and
though she was now completely self-possessed she was con-
scious of a certain shiver of fear, such as an actress feels in her
dressing-room at the tuning-up of the orchestra. Her back
was to the door and she heard the whirl of her skirt as he en-
tered, and then he was before her, and they were alone.

He was looking at her out of large, pensive, wonderful eyes,
and she saw him pass his hand over them and then bow pro-
foundly and motion her to a seat, and go to the mantel-piece
and lean on it. She was tingling all over, and a certain glow
was going up to her face, but when she spoke she was mistress
of herself, and her voice was soft and natural.

" I am doing a very unusual thing in coming to see you,"
she said, " but you have forced me to it, and I am quite help-
less."

A faint sound came from him, and she was aware that he
was leaning forward to see her face, so she dropped her eyes,
partly to let him look at her, and partly to avoid meeting his
gaze.

" I heard your speech in the piazza this morning. It would
be useless to disguise the fact that some of its references were
meant for me."

He did not speak, and she played with the glove in her lap,
and continued in the same soft voice:

" If I were a man, I suppose I should challenge you. Being
a woman, I can only come to you and tell you that you are
wrong."

"Wrong?"

" Cruelly, terribly, shamefully wrong."

" You mean to tell me -. . ."

He was stammering in a husky voice, but she said quite
calmly :

" I mean to tell you that in substance and in fact what you
implied was false."

There was a dry glitter of hatred and repulsion in her eyes
which she tried to subdue, for she knew that he was looking at
her still.

.94 THfi ETERNAL CITY

" If . . . if . . ." — his voice was thick and indistinct — " if
you tell me that I have done you an injury . . ."

" You have — a terrible injury."

She could hear his breathing, but she dared not look up,
lest he should see something in her face.

" Perhaps you think it strange," she said, " that I should
ask you to accept my assurance only. But though you have
done me a great wrong I believe you will accept it. Even your
enemies speak of you as a just man. You are known every-
where as a defender of women. Wherever a woman is wronged
by cruel and selfish men there your name rings out as her
friend and champion. Shall it be said that in your own person
you have made an innocent woman suffer ? "

" If ... if you give me your solemn word of honour that
what I said — what I implied — was false, that rumour and
report have slandered you, that it is all a cruel and baseless
calumny . . ."

She raised her head, looked him full in the face, and with-
out a quiver in her voice:

" I do give it," she said.

" Then I believe you," he answered. " With all my heart
and soul I believe you."

He had been thinking. " It is she ! The sweetness of
childhood and of girlish innocence a little faded, a little de-
praved, a little changed, but it is she ! "

" This man is a child," she thought. " He will believe any-
thing I tell him." And then she dropped her eyes again, and
turning with her thumb an opal ring on her finger, she began
to use the blandishments which had never failed with other
men.

" I do not say that I am altogether without blame," she
said. " I may have lived a thoughtless life amid scenes of
])overty and sorrow. If so, perhaps it has been partly the fault
of the men about me. When is a woman anything but what
the men around have made her ? "

She dropped her voice almost to a whisper, and added :
" You are the first man who has not praised and flattered me,"

" I was not thinking of you," he said. " I was thinking
of another, and perhaps of the poor working women who, in a
v.^orld of luxury, have to struggle and starve."

She looked up, and a half smile crossed her face. It was
like the smile of the fowler, when the bird on the tree answers
to the decoy in the grass.

THE REPUBLIC OP MAN 95

" I honour you for that," she said. " And perhaps if I had
earlier met a man like you my life might have been different.
I used to hope for such things long ago — that a man of high
aims and noble purposes would come to meet me at the gate
of life. Perhaps you have felt like that — that some woman,
strong and true, would stand beside you for good or for ill, in
your hour of danger and your hour of joy? "

Her voice was not quite steady — she hardly knew why.

" A dream ! We all have our dreams," he said.

" A dream indeed ! Men came — he was not among them.
They pampered every wish, indulged every folly, loaded me
with luxuries, but my dream was dispelled. I respected few
of them and reverenced none. They were my pastime, my
playthings. And they have revenged themselves by saying in
secret . . . what you said in public this morning."

He was looking at her constantly with his great wistful
eyes, the eyes of a child, and through all the joy of her success
she was conscious of a spasm of pain at the expression of his
sad face and the sound of his tremulous voice.

" We men are much to blame," he said. " In the battle of
man with man we deal out blows and think we are fighting
fair, but we forget that behind our foe there is often a woman
— a wife, a mother, a sister, a friend — and, God forgive us, we
have struck her, too."

The half smile that had gleamed on Roma's face was wiped
out of it by these words, and an emotion she did not understand
began to surge in her throat.

" You speak of poor women who struggle and starve," she
said. " Would it surprise you to hear that / know what it is
to do that? Yes, and to be friendless and alone — quite, quite
alone in a cruel and wicked city."

She had lost herself for a moment, and the dry glitter in
her eyes had given way to a moistness and a solemn expression.
But at the next instant- she had regained her self-control, and
went on speaking to avoid a painful silence.

" I have never spoken of this to any other man," she said,
" I don't know why I should mention it to you — to you of all
men."

He found no treachery in her fascinations. He only saw
his little Roma, the child who lived in her still, her innocent
sister who lay sleeping within.

She had risen to her feet, and he stepped up to her, and
looking straight into her eyes he said:

06 THE ETERNAL CITY

" Have you ever seen me before ? "

" Never," she answered.

" Sit down," he said. " I have something to say to you."

She sat down, and a peculiar expression, almost a crafty
one, came into her face.

" You have told me a little of your life," he said. " Let me
tell you something of mine."

She smiled again, and it was with difficulty that she con-
cealed the glow of triumph in her cheeks. These big children
called men were almost to be pitied. She had expected a fight,
but the man .had thrown up the sponge from the outset, and
now he was going to give himself into her hands. Only for
that pathetic look in his eyes and that searching tone in his
voice she could have found it in her heart to laugh.

She let her cape drop back from her shoulders, revealing her
round bust and swan-like arms, and crossing one leg over the
other she displayed the edge of a lace skirt and the point of a
red slipper. Then she coughed a little behind a perfumed lace
handkerchief and prepared to listen.

" You are the daughter of an ancient family," he said,
" older than the house it lived in, and prouder than a line of
kings. And whatever sorrows you may have seen, you knew
what it was to have a mother who nursed you and a father who
loved you, and a home that was your own. Can you realise
what it is to have known neither father nor mother, to be home-
less, nameless, and alone ? "

She looked up — a deep furrow had crossed his brow which
she had not seen there before.

" Happy the child," he said, " though shame stands beside
his cradle, who has one heart beating for him in a cruel world.
That was not my case. I never knew my mother."

The mocking fire had died out of Roma's face, and she
uncrossed her knees.

" My mother was the victim of a heartless man and a cruel
law. She tied to her baby's wrist a paper on which she had
written its father's name, placed it in the rota at the Foundling
of Santo Spirito, and flung herself into the Tiber."

Roma drew the cape over her shoulders.

" She lies in an imnamed pauper's grave in the Campo
Verano."

" Your mother?"

" Yes. My earliest memory is of being put out to nurse at
a farmstead in the Campagna. It was the time of revolution;

THE REPUBLIC OP MAN 97

the treasury of the Pope was not yet replaced by the treasury
of the King, the nuns at Santo Spirito had no money with
which to pay their pensions ; and I was like a child forsaken by
its own, a fledgling in a foreign nest."

"Oh!"

" Those were the days when scoundrels established abroad
traded in the white slavery of poor Italian boys. They scoured
the country, gathered them up, put them in railway trucks like
cattle, and despatched them to foreign countries. My foster
parents parted with me for money, and I was sent to Lon-
don."

Roma's bosom was heaving, and tears were gathering in
her eyes.

" My next memory is of living in a large half -empty house
in Soho — fifty foreign boys crowded together. The big ones
were sent out into the streets with an organ, the little ones
with a squirrel or a cage of white mice. We had a cup of tea
and a piece of bread for breakfast, and were forbidden to return
home until we had earned our supper. Then — then the winter
days and nights in the cold northern climate, and the little
southern boys with their organs and squirrels, shivering and
starving in the darkness and the snow."

Roma's eyes were filling frankly, and she was allowing the
tears to flow.

" Thank God, I have another memory," he continued. " It
is of a good man, a saint among men, an Italian refugee, giving
his life to the poor, especially to the poor of his own people."

Roma's labouring breath seemed to be arrested at that mo-
ment.

" On several occasions he brought their masters to justice
in the English courts, until, finding they were watched, they
gradually became less cruel. He opened his house to the poor
little fellows, and they came for light and Avarmth between
nine and ten at night, bringing their organs with them. He
taught them to read, and on Sunday evenings he talked to
them of the lives of the great men of their country. He is
dead, but his spirit is alive — alive in the souls he made to
live."

Roma's eyes were blinded with the tears that sprang to
them, and her throat was choking, but she said :

"What was he?"

" A doctor."

" What was his name ? "

98 THE ETERNAL CITY

David Eossi passed his hand over the furrow in his fore-
head, and answered :

" They called him Joseph Roselli."

Eoma half rose from her seat, then sank back, and the lace
handkerchief dropped from her hand.

" But I heard afterwards — long afterwards — that he was a
Roman noble, one of the fearless few who had taken up poverty
and exile and an unknown name for the sake of liberty and
justice."

Roma's head had fallen into her bosom, which was heaving
with an emotion she could not conceal.

" One day a letter came from Italy, telling him that a
thousand men were waiting for him to lead them in an in-
surrection that was to dethrone an unrighteous king. It
was the trick of a scoundrel who has since been paid the
price of a hero's blood. I heard of this only lately — only to-
night."

There was silence for a moment. David Eossi had put one
arm over his eyes.

" Well ? "

" He was enticed back from England to Italy ; an English
minister violated his correspondence with a friend, and com-
municated its contents to the Italian GoA^ernment; he was
betrayed into the hands of the police, and deported without
trial."

Roma was clutching at the bodice of her dress as if to keep
down a cry.

. " Was he never heard of again ? "

" Once — only once — by the friend I speak about."

Roma felt dizzy, as if she were coming near to some deep
places; but she could not stop — something compelled her to
go on.

" Who was the friend ? " she asked.

" One of his poor waifs — a boy who owed everything to
him, and loved and revered him as a father — loves and reveres
him still, and tries to follow in the path he trod."

"What — what was his name?"

" David Leone."

She looked at him for a moment without being able to
speak. Then she said:

" What happened to him ? "

" The Italian courts condemned him to death, and the
English police drove him from England."

The republic op man ^9

" Then he has never been able to return to his own coun-
try?"

" He has never been able to visit his mother's grave except
by secret and at night, and as one who was perpetrating a
crime."

" What became of him ? "

" He went to America."

" Did he ever return ? "

" Yes ! Love of home in him, as in all homeless ones, was
a consuming passion, and he came back to Italy."

"Where — where is he tiow?"

David Rossi stepped up to her, and said :

" In this room."

She rose

" Then you are David Leone ! "

He raised one hand :

"David Leone is dead!^'

There was silence for a moment. She could hear the
thumping of her heart. Then she said in an almost inaudible
whisper :

" I understand. David Leone is dead, but David Rossi is
alive."

He did not speak, but his head was held up and his face was
shining.

" Are you not afraid to tell me this ? "

" 1^0."

Her eyes glistened and her lips quivered.

" You insulted and humiliated me in public this moi-ning,
yet you think I will keep your secret ? "

" I know you will."

She felt a sensation of swelling in her throbbing heart, and
with a slow and nervous gesture she held out her hand.

" May I . . . may I shake hands with you ? " she said.

There was a moment of hesitation, and then their hands
seemed to leap at each other and clasp with a clasp of fire.

At the next instant he had lifted her hand to his lips and
was kissing it again and again.

A sensation of triumphant joy flashed through her, and
instantly died way. She wished to cry out, to confess, to say
something, she knew not what. But David Leone is dead rang
in her ears, and at the same moment she remembered what the
impulse had been which brought her to that house.

Then her eyes began to swim and her heart to fail, and she

100 THE ETERNAL CITY

wanted to fly away without uttering another word. She could
not speak, he could not speak; they stood together on a preci-
pice where only by silence could they hold their heads.

" Let me go home," she said in a breaking voice, and with
downcast head and trembling limbs she stepped to the door.

IX

Down to that moment David Rossi had thought of Roma
only as the child he knew seventeen years before, as the daugh-
ter of Dr. Roselli, as his friend and foster-sister. But he
looked at her again as she passed him going to the door, and
now for the first time he saw her, not as the boy sees the girl,
but as the man sees the woman. How beautiful she had grown !
And she was Roma ! His Roma, whatever the barrier that had
come between them ! Something warm tingled through him at
this thought, and looking at her with new eyes, he was filled
with a physical exultation which he had never felt before.

Reaching the door, she stopped, as if reluctant to leave, and
said in a voice still soft, but coming more from within :

" I wished to meet you face to face, but now that I have met
you, you are not the man I thought you were."

" JSTor you," he said, " the woman I pictured you."

A light came into her eyes at that, and she looked up and
said :

" Then you had never seen me before ? "

And he answered after a moment :

" I had never seen Donna Roma Volonna until to-day."

" Forgive me for coming to you," she said.

" I thank you for doing so," he replied, " and if I have
sinned against you, from this hour onward I am your friend
and champion. Let me try to right the wrong I have done you.
I am ready to do it if I can, no matter at what self-abasement.
T am eager to do it, and I shall never forgive myself until it is
done. What I said was the result of a mistake — let me ask
your forgiveness."

" You mean publicly ? "

" Yes ! At ten o'clock they send for my article for the
morning's paper. To-morrow morning I will beg your pardon
in public for the public insult I have offered you."

" You are very good, very brave," she said ; " but no, I will
ask you not to do that."

THE REPUBLIC OF MAN 101

" Ah! I understand. I know it is impossible to overtake a
lie. Once started it goes on and on, like a stone rolling down-
hill, and even the man who started can never stop it. Tell me
what better I can do — tell me, tell me."

Her face was still down, but it had how a new expression
of joy.

" There is one thing you can do, but it is difficult."

" No matter ! Tell me what it is."

" I thought when I came here . . . but it is no matter."

" Tell me, I beg of you."

He was trying to look into her face again, and she was
eluding his gaze as before, but now for another, a sweeter
reason.

" I thought if — if you would come to my house when my
friends are there, your presence as my guest, in the midst of
those in whose eyes you have injured me, might be sufficient of
itself to wipe out everything. But . . ."

She waited for his answer with a beating heart, but at first
he did not speak, and pretending to put away the idea, she said :

" But that is impossible : I cannot ask it. I know what it
would mean. Such people are pitiless — they have no mercy."

" Is that allf " he said.

" Then you are not afraid ? "

" Afraid ! "

For one moment they looked at each other, and their eyes
were shining. She was proud of his power. This was no child
after all, but a man ; one who, for a woman's sake, could stand
up against all the world.

" I have thought of something else," she said.

"What is it?"

" You have heard that I am a sculptor. I am making a
fountain for the Municipality, and if I might carve your face
into it . . ."

" It would be coals of fire on my head."

" You would need to sit to me."

"When shall it be?"

" To-morrow morning to begin with, if that is not too soon."

" It will be years on years till then," he said.

She bent her head and blushed. He tried again to look at
her beaming eyes and golden complexion, and for sheer joy of
being followed up she turned her face away.

" Forgive me if I have stayed too long," she said, making a
feint of opening the door.

102 THE ETERNAL CITY

" I should have grudged every moment if you had gone
sooner," he answered.

" I only wished that you should not think of me with hatred
and bitterness."

" If I ever had such a feeling it is gone."

"Mine has gone too," she said softly, and again' she pre-
pared to go.

One hook of her cape had got entangled in the silk muslin
at her shoulder, and while trying to free it she looked at him,
and her look seemed to say, " Will you ? " and his look replied,
" May I ? " and at the physical touch a certain impalpable
bridge seemed in an instant to cross the space that had divided
them.

" Let me see you to the door ? " he said, and her eyes said
openly, " Will you ? "

They walked down the staircase side by side, going step by
step, and almost touching.

" I forgot to give you my address — eighteen Trinita de'
Monti," she said.

" Eighteen Trinita de' Monti," he repeated.

They had reached the second storey. " I am trying to re-
member," she said. " After all, I think I have seen you before
somewhere."

" In a dream, perhaps," he answered.

" Yes," she said. " Perhaps in the dream I spoke about."

They had reached the street, and Roma's carriage, a hired
coupe, stood waiting a few yards from the door.

They shook hands, and at the electric touch she raised her
head and gave him in the darkness the look he had tried to take
in the light.

" Until to-morrow then," she said.

" To-morrow morning," he replied.

" To-morrow morning," she repeated, and again in the eye-
asking between them she seemed to say, " Come early, will you
not ? — there is still so much to say."

He looked at her with his shining eyes, and something of
the boy came back to his world-worn face as he closed the
carriage door.

" Adieu ! "

" Adieu ! "

She drew up the window, and as the carriage moved away
she smiled and bowed through the glass.

He stood a moment where she had left him, bare-headed in

THE REPUBLIC OF MAN 103

the piazza under the starlit sky, feeling as if the sun had ceased
to shine, and then he turned to go indoors. Bruno iu the cafe
was singing a song against the Government, and on a seat
under an image of the Madonna with an oil lamp burning be-
fore it, a young man and a girl were reading their book of
dreams. The old Garibaldian lay snoring on his sofa in the
lodge, the stairs were silent, the dining-room was empty, and
Elena was moving about on the floor above.

David Rossi went out on to the roof again. He had his
leader to write for the morning's journal, and he must try to
fix his mind on it. Rome was humming on like a top that sings
as it sleeps. The electric lights marked out the line of the
Corso, and lay in broad sheets of moonlight splendour over the
piazzas at either end, as if the city had been lit up for a ball
and then suddenly deserted. Soft, languishing shadows lay
below, and the tremulous notes of a mandoline came from
some unseen place, with a tenor voice which sang a love song
in tones that quavered like a throstle's.

Under the stars, so bright, so calm, he could think of noth-
ing but Roma's steady eyes and enchanting smile. He re-
turned to the house, and passing into the sitting-room, a mod-
ified perfume hovered about him. The air was full of the sense
of a fascinating presence which was gone and yet remained.

Something white lay on the floor. It was a little lace hand-
kerchief, and in the stupefaction of his happiness he put it
to his lips, and then left stunned by some sudden thought.

He was saying to himself, " After all, she is the same as my
sister. She was dead and is alive again, she was lost and is
found," when a knock came to the door.

It was the boy from the printing-ofliee for his article for
to-morrow's paper.

" Tell the manager this is all I have to-night," he said, and
taking an envelope he inserted the signed manuscript of his
Creed and Charter.

PART THREE
ROMA

The Piazza of Trinita de' Monti takes its name from a
church and convent which stand on the edge of the Pincian
Hill. You pass through it, under the long wall of the convent
garden, as you go to the public gardens of the Pincio, where
the municipal band plays in the afternoons of winter. Behind
the piazza and the church are the broad acres of the Borghese
gardens, with their woods of yew and cypress, and* in front of it
is the city, from the green slopes of Monte Mario, with its stone
pines against the sky, to the old Roman forts at the limits of
the outer plains. Palaces, hovels, towers, spires, and domes
lie framed as in a picture below, within the long ridge of the
Janiculum.

People come to the piazza in the afternoon to hear the nuns
and children of the Sacred Heart sing their office of Benedic-
tion, and to watch the sun as it sets in a blaze of gold behind the
great dome of St. Peter's, sending streaks of crimson up the
narrow streets like the rays of a celestial nimbus. A flight of
travertine steps, twisted and curved to mask their height, goes
down from the church to a diagonal piazza, the Piazza di
Spagna, which is always bright with the roses of flower-sellers,
who build their stalls around a fountain.

At the top of these steps there stands a house, four-square
to all winds, and looking every way over Rome. The sun rises
and sets on it, the odour of the flowers comes up to it from the
piazza, and the music of the band comes down to it from the
Pincio. Donna Roma occupied two floors of this house. One
floor, the lower one, built on arches and entered from the side
of the city, was used as a studio, the other one as a private
apartment.

104

ROMA 105

Donna Eoma's home consisted of ten or twelve rooms on the
second floor, opening chiefly out of a central drawing-room
which was furnished in red and yellow damask, papered with
velvet wall-papers, and lighted by lamps of Venetian glass
representing lilies in rose-colour and violet. Her bedroom,
which looked to the Quirinal, was like the nest of a bird in its
pale-blue satin, with its blue silk counterpane and its em-
broidered cushion at the foot of the bed ; and her boudoir, which
looked to the Vatican, was full of vases of malachite and the
skins of wild animals, and had a bronze clock on the chimney-
piece set in a statue of Mephistopheles. The only other
occupant of her house, besides her servants, was a distant
kinswoman, called her aunt, and known to familiars as the
Countess Betsy; but in the studio below, which was connected
with the living rooms by a circular staircase, and hung round
with masks, busts, and valuable weapons, there was Bruno
Rocco, her marble-pointer, the friend and housemate of David
Rossi.

Her porter at the door looked at her, after the manner
of his kind, when she drew up in the hired coupe after her
visit to the Piazza Navona, but she was in no mood for nice
observation, and when her maid, who had scuttled up ahead
from her gossiping place in the lodge, said something in the
hall about her aunt, the Countess, she did not hear. She went
direct to her bedroom, dismissed her maid immediately, and
when her dog came pushing his cold nose into her palm she
sent him away without a pat.

Nevertheless she did not go to bed at once, but sat long
without undressing, fingering one by one the toilet articles on
her dressing-table, and then brushing out her perfumed hair,
coiling it up on her head and dropping it down again. The
three lights on the Pope's Loggia, which are put out at ten
o'clock, were long since gone, the tinkling of the tram-cars
had ceased, and silence had descended on the city; when con-
sulting her tiny watch, she found that she had sat two hours
thinking.

The woman within had that night suffered a shock. She
had gone out proudly, gaily, defiantly, and had come home
humiliated, confused, and a little ashamed. But over all other
senses there was a certain delicious tenderness, a tingling of
warm blood, a current of irresistible attraction which she
fought against in vain.

She slept badly and had a painful dream of her father in
8

106 THE ETERNAL CITY

heaven watching over his daughter on earth, and knowing all
her thoughts and all her doings. This was frightening, and
she felt as if she were a criminal and a sinner. All night long
she was haunted by big wistful eyes, which seemed to be her
father's eyes, and yet turned out to be the eyes of David Rossi.
They made her feel as if there were something contemptible
about her, and almost as if she were naked. But when she
awoke in the morning the sun was streaming into the room,
the street calls were coming up from the piazza, and she was
able to tear herself away from the cruel impressions. She
could smile at the memory of her dream of nakedness and think
of the experiences of the night before as of a drama at the
theatre which had held her for the time being with a spell.

When the maid brought in her tea she had recovered control
of herself, and everything that happened thereafter helped
her to regain possession of the woman she had been yesterday.

" A person in the hall has brought this letter from his Ex-
cellency," said the maid.

It was a letter from the Baron, sending Felice to be her
servant according to his promise. " As you say, he is a treas-
ure and sees nothing," wrote the Baron. " Don't look at the
newspapers this morning, my child, and if any of them send
to you say nothing."

Roma had scarcely finished her coffee and roll when a lady
journalist was announced. It was Lena, the rival of Olga both
in literature and love.

" I'm ' Penelope,' " she said. " ' Penelope ' of the Day, you
know. Come to see if you have anything to say in answer to
the Deputy Rossi's speech yesterday. Our editor is anxious
to give you an opportunity; and if you would like to reply
through me to Olga's shameful libels . . . Olga ? ' Fieri,' you
know. Haven't you seen her article? Here it is. Disgraceful
insinuations ! No lady could allow them to pass unnoticed."

" Nevertheless," said Roma, " that is what I intend to do.
Good-morning ! "

Lena had barely crossed the doorstep when a more im-
portant person drove up. This was the Senator Palomba,
Mayor of Rome, a suave, oily man, with little twinkling eyes.

" Come to offer you my sympathy, my dear ! Scandalous
libels. Liberty of the press, indeed ! Disgraceful ! It's in
all the newspapers — I've brought them with me. One journal
actually points at you personally. See — * A lady sculptor who
has recently secured a commission from the Municipality

ROMA lOY

through the influence of a distinguished person.' Most damag-
ing, isn't it 'i The elections so near, too ! We must publicly
deny the statement. Ah, don't be alarmed ! Only a way out of
a nest of hornets. Nothing like diplomacy, you know. Of
course the Municipality will buy your fountain just the same,
but I thought I would come round and explain before pub-
lishing anything.

Roma said nothing, and the great man backed himself out
with the air of one who had conferred a favour, but before
going he had a favour to ask in return.

" It's rumoured this morning, my dear, that the Govern-
ment is about to organise a system of secret police — and quite
right, too. You remember my nei^hew, Charles Minghelli ? I
brought him here when he came from Paris. Well, Charles
would like to be at the head of the new force. The very man !
Finds out everything that happens, from the fall of a pin to an
attempt at revolution, and if Donna Koma will only say a word
for him . . . Thanks ! . . . What a beautiful bust ! Yours,
of course ? A masterpiece ! Fit to put beside the masterpieces
of old Rome. Council to-day, my dear — adieu ! "

The Mayor was not yet out of the drawing-room when a
third visitor was in the hall. It was Madame Sella, a fashion-
able modiste, with social pretensions, who contrived to live on
terms of quasi-intimacy with her aristocratic customers.

" Trvist I'm not de trop ! I knew you wouldn't mind my
calling in the morning. What a scandalous speech of that
agitator yesterday! Everybody is talking about it. In fact,
people say you will go away. It isn't true, is it ? No ? So
glad! So relieved! . . .By the way, my dear, don't trouble
about those stupid bills of mine, but . . . I'm giving a little
reception next week, and if the Baron would only condescend
. . . you'll mention it? A thoiisand thanks! Good-morning!
How charming you look in that simple gown ! Studio sack,
of course ! To think that mere alpaca could make any one look
so lovely ! "

" Count Mario," announced Felice, and an effeminate old
dandy came tripping into the room. He was Roma's landlord
and the Italian ambassador at St. Petersburg.

" So good of you to see me, Donna Roma. Such an un-
canonical hour, too, but I do hope the Baron will not be driven
to resign oflice on account of these malicious slanders. You
think not? So pleased! Naturally a Minister is sensitive
about attacks on his private life. Anarchists know that, and

108 THE ETERNAL CITY

in a country where public opinion is so fickle, it's the oldest
political dodge, you know. So much for our liberal institu-
tions ! Always helping the agitators who are inciting the peo-
ple to the barricades."

Then stepping to the window, " What a lovely view ! The
finest in Rome, and that's the finest in Europe! I'm always
saying if it wasn't Donna Roma, I should certainly turn out my
tenant and come to live here myself . . . That reminds me of
something. I'm . . . well, I'm tired of Petersburg, and I've
written to the Minister asking to be transferred to Paris, and
if somebody will only whisper a word for me . . . How sweet
of you ! Adieu ! "

Roma was sick of all this insincerity, and feeling bitter
against the person who had provoked it, when an unseen hand
opened the door of a room on the Pincio side of the draw-
ing-room, and the testy voice of her aunt called to her from
within.

The old lady, who had just finished her morning toilet and
was redolent of scented soap, reclined in a white robe on a bed-
sofa with a gilded mirror on one side of her and a little shrine
on the other. Her face was a face of a thousand years ago —
the face of a Roman empress without its power — and her hair,
now grey, was still frizzled over her fine head in coquettish
curls. Her bony fingers were loaded with loose rings, and a
rosary hung at her wrist. A cat was sitting at her feet, with a
gold cross suspended from its ribbon.

" Ah, is it you at last ? You come to me sometimes.
Thanks ! " she said in a withering whimper. " I thought you
might have looked iri last night, and I lay awake until after
midnight."

" I had a headache and went to bed," said Roma.

" I never have anything else, but nobody thinks of me,"
said the old lady, and Roma went over to the window.

" I suppose you are as headstrong as ever and still intend to
invite that man in spite of all my protests ? "

" He is to sit to me this morning, and may be here at any
time," said Roma.

" Just so ! It's no use speaking. I don't know what girls
are coming to. Goodness knows, the world is not so very ex-
acting. It only asks that people should govern themselves with
an appearance of propriety. When I was young a man like
that wouldn't have been allowed to cross the threshold of any
decent house in Rome. He would have been locked up in prison

ROMA 109

instead of sitting for his bust to the ward of the Prime Min-
ister."

" Aunt Betsy," said Eoma, " I want to ask you a question."

" Be quick, then. My head is coming on as usual. Nata-
lina ! Where's Natalina ? "

" Was there any quarrel between my father and his family
before he left home and became an exile ? "

" Certainy not ! Who said there was ? Quarrel indeed !
His father was broken-hearted, and as for his mother, she
closed the gate of the palace, and it was never opened again to
the day of her death. The Pope tried to make peace, but your
father was like you — he was too headstrong. I^atalina, give me
my smelling salts. And why haven't you brought the cushion
for the cat ? "

" Still, a man has to live his own life, and if my father
thought it right . . ."

" Right ? Do you call it right to break up a family, and,
being an only son, to let a title be lost and estates go to the
dogs ? "

" I thought they went to the Baron, auntie."

" Roma, aren't you ashamed to sneer at me like that ? At
the Baron, too, in spite of all his goodness ! As for your father,
I'm out of patience. He wasted bis wealth and his rank, and
left his own flesh and blood to the mercy of others — and all for
what?"

" For country, I suppose."

" For fiddlesticks ! For conceit and vanity and vainglory.
Go away. My head is fit to split. ISTatalina, why haven't you
given me my smelling salts? And why will you always for-
get to . . ."

Eoma left the room, but the voice of her aunt scolding the
maid followed her down to the studio.

Her dog was below, and the black poodle received her with
noisy demonstrations, but the humorous voice which usually
saluted her with a cheery welcome she did not hear. Bruno
was there, nevertheless, but silent and morose, and bending over
his work with a sulky face.

She had no difficulty in understanding the change when she
looked at her own work. It stood on an easel in a compart-
ment of the studio shut off by a glass partition, and was a
head of David Rossi which she had roughed out yesterday.
Not yet feeling sure which of the twelve apostles around the
dish of her fountain was the subject that Rossi should sit for,

110 THE ETERNAL CITY

she had decided to experiment on a bust. It was only a sketch,
but it was stamped with the emotions that had tortured her,
and it showed her that unconsciously her choice had been made
already. Her choice was Judas.

Last night she had laughed when looking at it, and she had
laughed to think how Rome would laugh if the man could be
persuaded to sit to his own fool's mirror. But this morning
she saw that it was cruel, impossible, and treacherous. It was
also false to the character of David Rossi, as she saw him now,
and she could forgive Bruno's sulkiness if it came of having
seen it. But since Bruno had spied upon her and talked of her
to his friend, and since he might talk of her work as she went
on with it, for the future she would turn the key on her own
part of the studio and thus stop his chatter.

A touch or two at the clay obliterated the sinister expres-
sion, and, being unable to do more until the arrival of her
sitter, she sat down to write a letter.

" My dear Baron, — Thanks for Cardinal Felice. He will
be a great comfort in this household if only he can keep the
peace with Monsignor Bruno, and live in amity with the Arch-
bishop of Porter's Lodge. Senator Tom-tit has been here to
suggest some astonishing arrangement about my fountain,
and to ask me to mention his nephew, Charles Minghelli, as a
fit and proper person to be chief of your new department of
secret police. Madame de Trop and Count Signorina have
also been, but of their modest messages more anon.

" As for D. R., my barometer is * set fair,' but it is likely
to be a stormier time than I expected. Last night I decked
myself in my best bib and tucker, and, in defiance of all prec-
edent, went down to his apartment. But the strange thing
was that whereas I had gone to find out all about him, I hadn't
been ten minutes in his company before he told all about me
— about my father, at all events, and his life in London. I be-
lieve he knew me in that connection and expected to appeal to
my filial feelings. Did, too, so strong is the force of nature,
and then and thereafter, and all night long I was like some-
body who had been shaken in an earthquake and wanted to cry
out and confess. It was not until I remembered what my
father had been — or rather hadn't — and that he was no more
to mo than a name, representing exposure to the cruellest fate
a girl ever passed through, that I recovered from the shock of
D. R.'s dynamite.

ROMA 111

" He has promised to sit to me for his bust, and is to come
this morning! Happily Koma is herself again, so please keep
away from her for the present and leave her to deal alone with
Pontifex Maximus of the Piazza ISTavona. — Aifectionately,

" EOMA.

"P.S. — My gentleman has good features, fine eyes, and a
wonderful voice, and though I truly believe he trembles at the
sight of a woman and has never been in love in his life, he has
an astonishing way of getting at one. But I could laugh to
think how little execution his fusillade will make in this di-
rection."

"Honourable Rossi! " said Felice's sepulchral voice behind
her, and at that moment David Rossi stepped into the studio.

II

In spite of her protestations, she was nervous and confused,
and she talked at random for a while. Putting David Rossi to
sit in the arm-chair on the platform for sitters, she rattled on
about everything — her clay, her tools, her sponge, and the
water they had forgotten to change for her. He must not mind
if she stared at him— that wasn't nice but it was necessary — and
he must promise not to look at her work while it was unfinished
— children and fools, you know — the proverb was musty.

And while she talked she told herself that Thomas was the
apostle he must stand for. These anarchists were all doubters,
and the chief of doubters was the figure that would represent
them.

David Rossi did not speak much at first, and he did not join
in Roma's nervous laughter. Sometimes he looked at her with
a steadfast gaze, which would have been disconcerting if it
had not been so simple and childlike. Then his dark eyes would
fall with an apologetic expression, and he would sit a long time
silent, patting the fluffy head of the dog, which had taken a
sudden fancy for him, and was rubbing its nose into his side.
At length he looked out of the window to where the city lay
basking in the sunshine, and birds were swirling in the clear
blue sky, and began to talk of serious subjects.

" How beautiful ! " he said. " No wonder the English and
Americans who come to Italy for health and the pleasure of art

112 THE ETERNAL CITY

think it a paradise where every one should be content. And

yet . . ."

"Yes?"

" Under the smile of this God-blessed land there is suffer-
ing such as can hardly be found in any other country of the
world."

"Is that so? Really?"

" Heaven knows I've no great faith in violence, but I don't
wonder at outbreaks when I see the poverty of this police-
ridden state."

" Yes, I daresay the taxes . . ."

" Taxes on the labourer's wages, on his bread, on his salt, on
the very air he breathes! State pawnshops to drain his last
drop of blood, and state lotteries to strip him of the last rag
of independence ! No wonder if he sinks into every excess and
becomes a savage. I never go by a crowded alley, where men
are drinking and women are fighting and children crying at
their mother's skirts, without wanting to take off my hat to
the martyrs of humanity. Sometimes I think I cannot bear it
any longer, and must go away, as others have done."

" Head a little higher, please. Thanks ! Does that mend
matters — to go away ? "

" Yes, because the angel of exile goes with them. And
while their companions who devised plans for turning the
world upside down are sloughing their fine theories one by
one, or turning their coats for the sake of their pockets, they are
sowing the seed in foreign lands — exciting the sympathy of the
nations by exposing the sores of their country."

" A little more this way, please — thank you ! That doesn't
do much for them, does it ? "

" For them ? No ! ' God comfort the poor exiles — their
path is a bridge of sighs! ' my old friend used to say. Poor,
friendless, forgotten, huddled together in some dingy quarter
of a foreign city, one a music-master, another a teacher of lan-
guages, a third a svipernumerary at a theatre, a fourth an
organ-man or even a beggar in the streets, yet weapons in the
hand of God and shaking the thrones of the world ! "

" You have seen something of that, haven't you? "

" Yes."

" In London ? "

" Yes. There's an old quarter on the fringe of the fashion-
able district. It is called Soho. Densely populated, infested
with vice, the very sewer of the city, yet an asylum of liberty

ROMA 113

for all that. The refugees of Europe fly to it. Its criminals,
too, perhaps ; for misery, like poverty, has many bedfellows."

"You lived there?"

" Yes. There is a great public library not far away — the
British Museum. It is the daily haunt of the exiles. They
are sure of a seat and warmth in winter — comforts often de-
nied at home. I can see them still under the big blue dome.
A shabby coat here, a shiny hat there, a quaint figure over yon-
der. Dreaming dreams they are never to see realised, living
on, hoping, buoying themselves up with visions. One day a
place is empty. Where's old Giuseppe? Nobody knows. At
last somebody hears that on Sunday afternoon an unknown
man fell dead in Battersea Park. He was taken away by the
police, and then the crowd in Sunday clothes, smoking and
promenading, went on."

Roma was wiping her fingers with the sponge, and looking
sideways out of the window. " Your old friend. Doctor Roselli
... he lived a life like that ? "

" Yes."

" He lived in Soho ? "

" In Soho Square when I knew him first. The house faced
to the north and had a porch and trees in front of it."

Roma was still wiping her fingers as with an unconscious
movement.

" The surgery was on the left of the hall, I remember. It
was a cosy room and always had a fire in winter. The stairs
went up towards the south, and on the first landing there were
two doors. One was to the bedroom of the doctor's little
daughter, the other was to a small conservatory fitted as a cage
for birds. There were twenty or thirty of them, all canaries,
and as soon as the sun rose on the glass roof they began to
sing. The child must have heard them when she awoke in the
morning."

The sponge had dropped to the floor, but Roma did not
observe it. She took up a tooth-tool and began to work on the
clay again.

" A little more that way, please — thanks ! Do you think
your friend had a right to renounce his rank and to break up
his family in Italy ? Think of his father — he would be broken-
hearted."

" He was — I've heard my old friend say so. He cursed
him at last and forbade him to call himself his son."

"There!"

114: THE ETERNAL CITY

" But he would never hear a word against the old man.
* He's my father — that's enough,' he would say."

The tooth-tool, like the sponge, dropped out of Roma's
fingers.

" How stupid ! But his mother . . ."

" That was sadder still. In the early years of his exile she
would pray him to come home. ' You are the best of mothers,'
he would answer, ' but I cannot do so.' She used to correspond
with him secretly, sending him money and clothes. He shared
the money with his fellow-exiles and pawned the clothes to buy
them bread."

" He never saw her again ? "

" jSTever, but he worshipped her very name. It was Roma,
I remember, and she was a tower of strength to him.
' Mothers ! ' he used to say, ' if you only knew your power ! God
be merciful to the wayward one who has no mother ! ' "

Roma's throat was throbbing. " He ... he was mar-
ried?"

" Yes. His wife was an Englishwoman, almost as friend-
less as himself."

" Eyes the other way, at the window — thank you ! . . . Did
she know who he was ? "

" Nobody knew. He was only a poor Italian doctor to all of
us in Soho."

" They . . . they were . . . happy ? "

" As happy as love and friendship could make them. And
even when poverty came . . ."

" He became pooi- — very poor ? "

" Very ! It got known that Doctor Roselli was a revolu-
tionary, and then his English patients began to be afraid. The
house in Soho Square had to be given up at last, and we went
into a side street. Only two rooms now, one to the front, the
other to the back, and four of us to live in them, but the misery
of that woman's outward circumstances never dimmed the radi-
ance of her sunny soul. She was an angel, God bless her ! "

Roma's bosom was heaving and her voice was growing
thick. "She . . . died?"

David Rossi bent his head and spoke in short, jerky sen-
tences. " Her death came at the bitterest moment of want.
It was Christmas time. Very cold and raw. We hadn't too
much at home to keep us warm. She caught a cold and it
settled on her chest. Pneumonia ! Only three or four days al-
together. She lay in the back-room; it was quieter. The doc-

ROMA 115

tor nursed her constantly. How she fought for life ! She was
thinking of her little daughter. Just six years of age at that
time, and playing with her doll on the floor."

His voice had enough to do to control itself,

" When it was all over we went into the front room and
made our beds on a blanket spread out on the bare boards.
Only three of us now — the child with her father, weeping for
the mother lying cold the other side of the wall."

His eyes were still looking out at the window. In Roma's
eyes the tears were gathering.

" We were nearly penniless, but our good angel was buried
somehow. Oh, the poor are the richest people in the world ! I
love them ! I love them ! "

He put his hand to his head. Roma could not look at him
any longer.

" It was in the cemetery of Kensal Green. There was a
London fog and the grave-diggers worked by torches, which
smoked in the thick air. But the doctor stood all the time with
his head uncovered. The child was there too, and driving home
she looked out of the window and sometimes laughed at the
sights in the streets. Only six — and she had never been in a
coach before ! "

At that moment was heard the boom of the gun that is fired
from the Castle of St. Angelo at midday, and she put down her
tools.

" If you don't mind, I'll not try to do any more to-day," she
said, in a husky voice. " Somehow it isn't coming right this
morning. It's like that sometimes. But if you can come at
this time to-morrow . . ."

" With pleasure," said David Rossi, and a moment later he
was gone.

She looked at her work and obliterated the expression
again.

" Not Thomas," she thought. " John — the beloved dis-
ciple! That would fit him exactly. His mind was like a pal-
ace that is less beautiful in itself than for some monument of
the past that is preserved within it."

Her father ! She could see his reverent head ! The picture
was not the one she had been taught to think about, but how
clear, how real !

As she went upstairs to dress for lunch, Felice gave her an
envelope bearing the seal of the Prime Minister, and told her
the dog was missing.

116 THE ETERNAL CITY

" He must have followed Mr. Rossi," said Roma, and with-
out ado she read the letter.

" Dear Roma, — A thousand thanks for suggesting Charles
Minghelli. I sent for him, saw him, and appointed him im-
mediately. Thanks, too, for the clew about your father.
Highly significant ! I mentioned it to Minghelli, and the dark
fire in his eyes shone out instantly. It was light in a dark place,
illuminating something he knew before. A propos, your Pon-
tifex Maximus of Piazza Navona has published a Bull, which
he calls his ' Creed and Charter.' Pull of mummery as old as
the Vatican, and as near to extinction. If any poor Prime
Ministers are to be saved it will be so as by fire. I crossed myself
twenty times while reading it. Adieu, my dear! You are on
the right track ! I will observe your request and not come near
you. I will not even ask you here, although the echoes of my
old house will be constantly crying ' Roma ! ' — Affectionately,

" BONELLI."

Ill

K'ext morning Roma found herself dressing with extraordi-
nary care. Her lovely figure showed full and round in the long
alpaca sack which she wore in the studio, and a light silk coif
threw out the dark curling locks of her graceful head. But her
heart was a maze of many voices. She could not tell which of
them to listen to — the unfamiliar voices that came with a fluid
tenderness from deep places, or the bitterer ones that were
always rising in her throat.

After cofl"ee she went into the Countess's room as usual.
The old lady had made her toilet and her cat was purring on a
cushion by her side.

" Ah, is it you again ? You're so busy downstairs that I
wonder I even see anything of you now."

" Aunt Betsy, is it true that my father was decoyed back to
Italy by the police ? "

" How do I know that ? But if he was, it was no more than
he might have expected. He had been breeding sedition at the
safe distance of a thousand miles, and it was time he was
brought to justice. Besides . . ."

"Well?"

" There were the estates, and naturally the law could not

/ ROMA 117

assign them to anybody else, while there was no judgment
against your father."

" So my father was enticed back to Italy in the interests of
the next of kin ? "

" Koma ! How dare you talk like that ? About your best
friend, too ! "

" I didn't say anything against the Baron, did I ? "

" You would be an ungrateful girl if you did. As for your
father, I'm tired of talking. Only for his exile you would have
had possession of your family estates at this moment, and been
a princess in your own right."

" Only for his exile I shouldn't have been here at all,
auntie, and somebody else would have been the princess, it
seems to me."

The old lady dropped the perfumed handkerchief that was
at her nose and said :

" What do you talk about downstairs all day long, miss ?
Pretty thing if you allow a man like that to fill you with his
fictions. He is a nice person to take your opinions from, and
you are a nice girl to stand up for a man who sold you into
slavery, as I might say ! Have you forgotten the baker's shop
in London — or was it a pastry-cook's, or what? — where they
made you a drudge and a scullery-maid, after your father had
given you away ? "

" Don't speak so loud. Aunt Betsy."

" Then don't worry me by defending such conduct. Ah,
how my head aches ! Natalina, where are my smelling salts ?
Katalina ! "

" I'm not defending my father, but still . . ."

" Should think not indeed ! If it hadn't been for the Baron,
who went in search of you, and found you after you had run
away and been forced to go back to your slave-master, and then
sent you to school in Paris, and now permits you to enjoy half
the revenues of your father's estates, and forbids us to say a
word about his- generosity, where would you be? Madonna
mia? In the streets of London, perhaps, to which your father
had consigned you ! "

And the old lady shuddered as if she had peered down the
mouth of a crater.

" How did the Baron prevail upon my slave-master, as you
say, to part with me? He was no fool, and if he knew who I
was, and who my father had been . . ,"

" Oh, don't ask me. Natalina ! . . . The Baron's no fool

118 THE ETERNAL CITY

either, and he did it somehow. He cut away that English
connection completely, and now the mire and slime of your
father's life troubles you no more. Ah, you come sometimes,
Natalina ! Why do you put everything . . . What has become
of . . . Will you never learn to . . ."

The Princess Bellini was waiting for Roma when she re-
turned to the drawing-room. The little lady was as friendly as
if nothing unusual had occurred.

" Just going for my walk in the Corso, my dear. You'll
come? No? Ah, work, work, work! Well, I've got my work,
too. Every day something — a concert, a conference, a charity
meeting, or a public function — and then the omniscient and
omnipresent dressmaker, you know. I want to call at Treves'
for the new novel. Delightfully scandalous, I hear! Talking
of that, how clever of you, my dear ! "

The little lady tapped Eoma's arm with her pince-nez and
lavighed.

" Everybody has heard that he is sitting to you, and every-
body understands. That reminds me — I've a box at the new
opera to-morrow night : — ' Samson ' at the Costanzi, you know.
Only Gi-gi and myself, but if you would like me to take you
and to ask your own particular Samson . . ."

Roma, with her eyes down, muttered something about the
Countess.

" Oh, I'll see to that," said the Princess. " The dear old
lady forgets her own young days, when she ran away with the
little lieutenant who robbed her of her jewels, and left her
without husband or lover, or a penny to bless herself with."

"Honourable Rossi," said Felice at the door, and David
Rossi entered the room, with the black poodle bounding before
him.

" I must apologise for not sending back the dog," he said.
" It followed me home yesterday, but I thought as I was com-
ing to-day . . ."

" Black has quite deserted me since Mr. Rossi appeared,"
said Roma, and then she introduced the deputy to the Princess.

The little lady was effusive. " I was just saying, Honour-
able Rossi, that if you would honour my box at the opera to-
night . . ."

David Rossi glanced at Roma.

" Oh, yes, Donna Roma is coming, and if you will . . ."

" With pleasure, Princess."

" That's charming ! After the opera we'll have supper at

ROMA 119

the Grand Hotel. Good-day ! " said the Princess, and then in a
low voice at the door, " I leave you to your delightful duties,
my dear. You are not looking so well, though. Must be the
scirocco. My poor dear husband used to suffer from it shock-
ingly. Adieu ! "

Eoma was less confused but just as nervous when she settled
to her work afresh, and as often as David Rossi looked at her
with his dark, wistful eyes under their long black lashes, she
heard that voice of fluid tenderness speaking to her again.
Nevertheless the other woman in her heart fought hard, re-
fusing to be caught like a sentimental simpleton in the current
of personal attraction.

" I've been thinking all night long of the story you told me
yesterday," she said. " No, that way, please — eyes as before —
thank you! About your old friend, I mean. He was a good
man — I don't doubt that — but he made everybody suffer. Not
only his father and mother, but his wife also. Has anybody a
right to sacrifice his flesh and blood to a work for the world ? "

" Christ did it," said David Rossi. " There never was a
martyr to country or religion but had to sacrifice the individual
to the universal. When a man has taken up a mission for
humanity his kindred must reconcile themselves to that."

" Yes, but a child, one who cannot be consulted, yet has to
suffer all the same. Your friend's daughter, for example. She
was to lose everything — her father himself at last. How could
he love her ? I suppose you would say he did love her."

"Love her? He lived for her. She was everything on
earth to him, except the one thing to which he had dedicated
his life."

A half smile parted her lovely lips.

" When her mother was gone he was like a miser who had
been robbed of all his jewels but one. and the love of father,
mother, and wife seemed to gather itself up in the child."

The lovely lips had a doubtful curve.

" How bright she was, too ! I can see her still in the dingy
London house with her violet eyes and coal-black hair and
happy ways— a gleam of the sun f I'om our sunny Italy."

She looked at him. His face was calm and solemn. Did he
really know her after all ? She felt her cheeks flush and tingle.

" And yet he left her behind to come to Italy on a hopeless
errand," she said.

" He did."

" How could he know what would happen? "

120 'i'HK Kl'EKJSIAL CITY

" He couldn't, and that troubled him most of all. He lived
in constant fear of being taken away from his daughter before
her little mind was stamped with the sense of how much he
loved her. Delicious selfishness! Yet it was not altogether
selfish. The world was uncharitable and cruel, and in the
rough chance of life it might even happen that she would be led
to believe that because her father gave her away, and left her,
he did not love her. That would be terrible to her, too ! "

Roma looked up again. His face was still calm and solemn.

" He gave her away, you say ? "

" Yes. When the treacherous letter came from Italy he
could not resist it. It was like a cry from the buried-alive
calling upon him to break down the door of their tomb. But
what could he do with the child? To take her with him was
impossible. A neighbour came — a fellow countryman — he kept
a baker's shop in the Italian quarter. ' I'm only a poor man,*
he said, ' but I've got a little daughter of the same age as yours,
and two sticks will burn better than one. Give the child to me
and do as your heart bids you ! ' It was like a light from
heaven. He saw his way at last."

Roma listened with head aside. The years of her childhood
M^ere swarming back on her.

" One day he took the child and washed her pretty face and
combed her glossy hair, telling her she was going to see another
little girl and would play Avith her always. And the child was
in high glee and laughed and chattered and knew no difference.
It was evening when we set out for the stranger's house, and in
the twilight of the little streets happy-hearted mothers were
calling to their children to come in to go to bed. The Doctor
sent me into a shop to buy a cake for the little one, and she ate
it as she ran and skipped by her father's side."

Roma was holding her breath. Every word seemed to waken
a memory and to reveal a track that had been long years lost.

" The baker's shop was poor but clean, and his oAvn little girl
was playing on the hearthrug with her cups and saucers. And
before we were aware of it two little tongues were cackling and
gobbling together, and the little back parlour was rippling over
with a merry twitter. The Doctor stood and looked down at
the children, and his eyes shone with a glassy light. ' You are
very good, sir,' he said, * but she is good, too, and she'll be
a great comfort and joy to you always.' And the man said,
* She'll be as right as a trivet, Doctor, and you'll be right too —
you'll be made triumvir like Mazzini, when the republic is pro-

ROMA 121

claimed, and then you'll send for the child, and for me, too, I
daresay.' But I could see that the Doctor was not listening.
* Let us slip away now,' I said, and we stole out somehow." •

Roma's eyes were moistening, and the little tool was trem-
bling in her hand.

" I led him through the dark streets home, but when we got
there the rooms were so lonely and silent. He found a broken
doll on the floor, I remember, and the pain of that little me-
mento of the child was almost too much for him. He wanted
to keep it, and lock it away, yet he wanted to give it back too.
It was the old struggle over again — the child and his country,
the doll and the child."

The tears that had gathered in Roma's eyes were flowing
frankly. She permitted them to flow.

" Nothing would serve at last but he must take it back to
the little one, so we returned to the baker's shop. The child
had gone to bed by that time. Would he go upstairs and take
a last look at her asleep ? No, thank you, he didn't think he
would, but I could see that his throat was throbbing. So he
stood at the street door, and lowering his voice, as if the sleep-
ing child might hear, he said, ' Give her this when she awakes
in the morning — it will comfort her, poor thing ! ' And like a
guilty one he hurried away."

There was silence for some moments, and then from with-
out, muffled by the walls it passed through, there came the
sound of voices. The nuns and children of Trinita de' Monti
were singing their Benediction — Ora pro nobis!

"1 don't think I'll do any more to-day," said Roma. " The
light is failing me, and my eyes . . ."

" The day after to-morrow, then," said Rossi, rising.

" But do you really wish to go to the opera to-morrow
night?"

He looked steadfastly into her face and answered " Yes."

She understood him perfectly. He had sinned against her
and he meant to atone. She could not trust herself to look at
him, so she took the damp cloth and turned to cover up the
clay. When she turned back he was gone.

She went up to her bedroom and lay face downward on the
bed. The sweet, pure voices of the children followed her. Ora
pro nohis! Ora pro nobis!

When she rose the struggle was over. A dead body of hate
which she had carried in her heart for years had fallen away.
She had buried it. It was gone. The church bells were strik-
9

122 THE ETERNAL CITY

iug the first hour of night, but it seemed to her like the first
hour of day.

• After dinner she replied to the Baron's letter of the day
before.

" Dear Baron, — I have misgivings about being on the right
track, and feel sorry you have set Minghelli to vpork so soon.
Do Prime Ministers appoint people at the mere mention of
their names by wards, second cousins, and lady friends gener-
ally? Wouldn't it have been wise to make inquiries? What
was the fault for which Minghelli was dismissed in London?
A Secretary of Legation is a biggish person to be dismissed so
suddenly. And now that I come to think of it, I thought his
face forbidding, dark, close, saturnine, with the nose of an
eagle and the eyes of a fox.

" As for D. R., I must have been mistaken about his know-
ing me. He doesn't seem to know me at all, and I believe his
shot at me by way of my father was a fluke. At all events, I'm
satisfied that it is going in the wrong direction to set Minghelli
on his trail. Leave him to me alone. — Yours,

" Roma.

" P.S. — Princess Potiphar and Don Saint Joseph are to
take me to the new opera to-morrow night. D. R. is also to be
there, so he will be seen with me in public !

" I have begun work on King David for a bust. He is not
so wonderfully good-looking when you look at him closely."

IV

The little Princess called for Roma the following night, and
they drove to the opera in her magnificent English carriage.
Already the theatre was full and the orchestra was tuning up.
With the movement of people arriving and recognising each
other there was an electrical atmosphere which affected every-
body. Don Camillo came, oiled and perfumed, and when he
had removed the cloaks of the ladies and they took their places
in the front of the box, there was a slight tingling all over the
house. This pleased the little Princess immensely, and she
began to sweep the place with her opera-glass.

" Crowded already ! " she said. " And every face looking
up at my box ! That's what it is to have for your companion
Ihe most beautiful and the most envied girl in Rome. What

ROMA 123

a sensation ! Nothing to what it will be, though, when your
illustrious friend arrives."

At that moment David Eossi appeared at the back, and the
Princess welcomed him effusively.

" So glad ! So honoured ! Gi-gi, let me introduce you — ■
Honourable Rossi, Don Camillo Luigi Murelli."

Eoma looked at him — he had an air of distinction in a
dress coat such as comes to one man in a thousand. He
looked at Roma — she wore a white gown with violets on one
shoulder and two rows of pearls about her beautiful white
throat. The Princess looked at both of them, and her little
eyes twinkled.

" Never been here before, Mr. Rossi ? Then you must allow
me to explain everything. Take this chair between Roma and
myself. No, you must not sit back. You can't mind observa-
tion— so used to it, you know."

Without further ado David Rossi took his place in front of
the box, and then a faint commotion passed over the house.
There were looks of surprise and whispered comments, and
even some trills of laughter.

He bore it without flinching, as if he had come for it and
expected it, and was taking it as a penance for a fault.

Roma dropped her head and felt ashamed, but the little
Princess went on talking. " These long boxes on each side
of the stage are called Barcaccie. The one on the left is kept
for officers, you see, and the one on the right for gentlemen of
society without ladies. These boxes on the first tier are occu-
pied by Roman society generally, those on the second tier
mainly by the diplomatic corps, and the stalls are filled by all
sorts and conditions of people— political people, literary peo-
ple, even tradespeople if they're rich enough or can pretend
to be."

" And the upper circles ? " asked Rossi.

" Oh," in a tired voice, " professional people, I think —
Collegio Romano and University of Rome, you know."

"And the gallery?"

" Students, I suppose." Then eagerly, after bowing to
somebody below, " Gi-gi, there's Lu-lu. Don't forget to ask
him to supper. . . . All the beautiful young men of Rome are
here to-night, Mr. Rossi, and presently they'll pay a round of
calls on the ladies in the boxes."

Again the Princess bowed to somebody below, and said in a
lively voice, " Roma, there's Count Coriolanus . . . We call

124 THE ETERNAL CITY

him the first sword of Italy, Mr. Rossi. He has fought thirty-
three duels, and as that is exactly the number of the years of
our Lord . . ."

The voice of the Princess was suddenly drowned by the
sharp tap of the conductor, followed by the opening blast of the
overture. Then the lights went down and the curtain rose, but
still the audience kept up a constant movement in the lower
regions of the house, and there was an almost unbroken chat-
ter. Only at certain moments was there a short hush, and then
the low hum of gossip began again.

The curtain fell on the first act without anybody knowing
what the opera had been about, except that Samson loved a
woman named Delilah, and the lords of the Philistines were
tempting her to betray him. Students in the gallery, recognis-
able by their thin beards, shouted across at each other for the
joy of shouting, and spoke by gestures to their professors below.
People all over the house talked gaily on social subjects, and
there was much opening and shutting of the doors of boxes.
The beautiful young man called Lu-lu came to pay his re-
spects to the Princess, and there was a good deal of gossip and
laughter.

Meantime David Rossi sat silent, and at length Roma spoke
to him.

" I'm afraid you think our audiences very ill-mannered,"
she said.

" The humblest audience in Trastevere, Whitechapel, or the
Bowery would behave better," he answered.

And then Don Camillo bit his lips and said :

" Excellent idea to make Samson the hero of an opera !
Exactly in the spirit of the times, you know ! Everything has
to be on a large scale nowadays — nations, empires, wars, every-
thing ! The Pope himself knew that when he dreamed of the
Holy Roman Empire, and if you are only starting a penny ton-
tine that must be big too. It must be international, you know ;
it must take the name of humanity, and its creed and charter
must be a sort of world-political testament. Oh, it would be
quite unfashionable not to be afflicted with megalomania in
these days, and I only hope," with a look at the little Princess,
" that the craze for big things will mercifully stop before it
affects us with big women."

But the effect of the speech was a little spoilt by an incident
which created more sensation than the opera. This was the
arrival of the Prime Minister, whose appearance provoked some

ROMA 125

applause, which was succeeded by further glances at the Prin-
cess's box, and even some audible tittering.

The second act was more dramatic than the first, showing
Samson in his character as a warrior, and when the curtain
came down again. General Morra, the Minister of War, visited
the Princess's box.

" So you're taking lessons in the art of war from the profes-
sor who slew an army with the jaw-bone of an ass? " said Don
Camillo.

" Wish we could enlist a few thousands of him — jaw-bones
as well," said the General. " The gentleman might be worth
having at the War Office, if it was only as a jettatura"

" But I thought you had evil eyes enough at Monte Citorio,
judging by the storm of newspapers always beating down on
you. Aren't they telling you that your militarism will destroy
itself by its own strength, as our friend Samson is going to
do presently ? "

" Militarism is not the only thing that is to come to an end,
it seems," said the General.

" Oh, no ! In the millennium that is coming there are to be
no operas, no arts, no balls, no — anything. These millenna-
rians are merciless — they leave us nothing nowadays but some
acres in Arcadia and a cow."

" Don't let us think of it," laughed the Princess. " The
Roman soul shudders at the prospect. I'm going to buy a
big candle for the Madonna at St. Agostino's and ask her
to protect us."

" Sleep well ! These days will pass," said the General, ris-
ing. And then in a low voice to the Princess, with a glance
at Roma, " Your beautiful young friend doesn't look so well
to-night."

The Princess shrugged her shoulders. " Of the pains of
love one suffers but does not die." she whispered.

" You surely cannot mean . . ."

The Princess put the tip of her fan to his lips and laughed.

David Rossi spoke little, and as often as Roma looked at
him the natural buoyancy of her natui-e sank under a sense of
shame. He was going through this penance for her sake. He
could crush these butterflies in the palm of his hand, yet he
was submitting in silence to their innuendoes.

Roma was conscious of a strange conflict of feelings. The
triumph she had promised herself by David Rossi's presence
with her in public — the triumph over the envious ones who

126 THE ETERNAL CITY

would have rejoiced in her downfall — brought her no pleas-
ure.

The third act dealt with the allurements of Delilah, and was
received with a good deal of laughter.

" Ah, these sweet, round, soft things — they can do anything
they like with the giants," said Don Camillo. " Talk of woman
being unrecognised by the laws — she makes them ! And in the
lists of Ministers of every civilised state women's names ought
to be everywhere, Minister of the Interior — Donna Delilah.
Minister of Finance . . ."

" Gi-gi ! " protested the Princess, but she was choking with
laughter.

The Baron, who had dined with the King, came round at the
end of the act, wearing a sash diagonally across his breast, with
crosses, stars, and other decorations. He bowed to David Rossi
with ceremonious politeness, greeted Don Camillo familiarly,
kissed the hand of the Princess, and offered his arm to Roma to
take her into the corridor to cool — she was flushed and over-
heated.

" I see you are getting on, my child ! Excellent idea to ,
bring him here ! Everybody is saying you cannot be the per-
son he intended, so his trumpet has brayed to no purpose."

" You received my letters? " she said in a faltering voice.

" Yes, but don't be uneasy. I'm neither the prophet nor
the son of a prophet if we are not on the right track. What
a fortunate thought about the man Minghelli ! An inspira-
tion ! You asked what his fault was in London — forgery, my
dear ! "

" That's serious enough, isn't it ? "

" In a Secretary of Legation, yes, but in a police agent . . ."

He laughed significantly, and she felt her skin creep.

" Has he found out anything 'i " she asked.

" Not yet, but he is clearly on the trace of great things. It
is nearly certain that your King David is a person wanted by
the law."

Her hand twitched at his arm, but they were turning at the
end of the corridor and she pretended to trip over her train.

" Some clues missing still, however, and to find them we
are sending Minghelli to London."

" London? Anything connected with my father? "

" Possibly ! We shall see. But there's the orchestra and
here's your box ! You're wonderful, my dear ! Already you've
undone the mischief he did you, and one half of your task is

ROMA 127

accomplished. Diplomatists ! Pshaw ! We'll all have to go to
school to a girl ! Adieu ! "

All through the next act Roma seemed to feel a sting on her
arm where the Baron had touched it, and she was conscious of
colouring up when the Princess said :

" Everybody is looking this way, my dear ! See what it is
to be the most talked of girl in Rome ! "

And then she felt David Rossi's hand on the back of her
chair, and heard his soft voice saying :

" The light is in your eyes, Donna Roma. Let me change
places with you for a while."

After that everything passed in a kind of confusion. She
heard somebody say :

" He's putting a good deal of heart into it, poor thing ! "

And somebody answered, " Yes, of broken-heart appar-
ently."

Then there was a crash and the opera was over, and she was
going out in a crowd on David Rossi's arm, and feeling as if
she would fall if she dropped it.

The magnificent English carriage drew up under the portico
and all four of them got into it.

" Grand Hotel ! " cried Don Camillo. Then dropping back
to his place he laughed and chanted :

" And the dead he slew at his death were more than he slew
in his life . . . and he judged Israel twenty years."

Y

A MARSHY air from the Campagna shrouded the city as with
a fog, and pierced through the closed windows of the carriage,
but there was warmth and glow in the Grand Hotel. Passing
through an outer room under a glass roof where men (and some
women) sat smoking cigarettes and sipping coffee, the company
came to an inner restaurant, decorated in -white and gold, and
blazing with electric lights and many mirrors. About little
round tables small groups were already gathered, and fresh
parties were constantly arriving.

One woman after another came in clothed in diamonds
under the fur cloak which hung over her bare arms and
shoulders, until the room was a dazzling blaze of jewels. As
each party entered their names were whispered by those who
were already seated, and the newcomers carried themselves with
the air of persons conscious of observation.

128 THE ETERNAL CITY

People caught each other's eyes through lorgnettes and
eyeglasses, and there were constant salutations. The men
chattered, the women laughed, and there was an affectation of
baby-talk at nearly every table. Then supper was served,
glasses were held up as signals, and bright eyes began to play
about the room, until the atmosphere was tingling with electric
currents and heated by human passion.

Roma sat facing the Princess. She was still confused and
pre-occupied, but when rallied upon her silence she brightened
up for a moment and tried to look buoyant and happy. David
Rossi, who was on her left, was still quiet and collected, but
bore the same air as before of a man going through a penance.

This was observed by Don Camilio, who sat on the right
of the Princess, and led to various little scenes.

" Very good company here, Mr. Rossi. Always sure of
seeing some beautiful young women," said Don Camilio.

" And beautiful young men, apparently," said David Rossi.

The beautiful young man called Lu-lu was there, and reach-
ing over to Don Camilio, and speaking in a whisper between
the puff of a cigarette and a sip of coffee, he said :

" Why doesn't the Minister buy the man up ? Easy enough
to buy the press these days."

" He's doing better than that," said Don Camilio. " He's
drawing him from opposition by the allurements of . . ."

"Office?"

" No, the lady," whispered Don Camilio, but Roma heard
him.

She was ashamed. The innuendoes which belittled David
Rossi were belittling herself as well, and she wanted to get up
and fly.

Rossi himself seemed to be unconscious of anything hurt-
ful. Although silent, he was calm and cheerful, and his man-
ner was natural and polite. The wife of one of the royal aides-
de-camp sat next to him, and talked constantly of the King.
The King liked a ride every morning, and one member of the
Court had to be ready to go out with him at ten o'clock. That
was her husband's work, and he was on duty two weeks in every
two months.

Roma found herself listening to ^every word that was said
to David Rossi, but she also heard a conversation that was
going on at the other end of the table.

"Wants to be another Cola di Rienzi, doesn't he?" said
Lu-lu.

ROMA 129

" Another Christ," said Don Camillo. " He'll be asking for
a crown of thorns by and by, and calling on the world to
immolate him for the sake of humanity. Look ! He's talking
to the little Baroness, but he is fifteen thousand miles above
the clouds at this moment."

"Where does he come from, I wonder?" said Lu-lu, and
then the two hands of Don Camillo played the invisible ac-
cordion.

" Madame de Trop says his father was Master of the House
to Prince Petrolium — vice-prince, you know, and brought up
in the little palace," said the Princess.

" Don't believe a word of it," said Don Camillo, " and I'll
wager he never supped at a decent hotel before."

" I'll ask him ! Listen now ! Some fun," said the Princess.
" Honourable Rossi ! "

" Yes, Princess," said David Rossi.

The eyes of the little Princess swept the table with a
sparkling light.

" Beautiful room, isn't it ? "

" Beautiful."

" Never been here before, I suppose ? "

David Rossi looked steadfastly into her eyes and answered,
" Oh, yes, Princess. When I first returned to Italy eight years
ago I was a waiter in this house for a month."

The sparkling face of the little Princess broke up like a
snowball in the sun, and the two other men dropped their heads.

Roma hardly knew what her own feelings were. Humilia-
tion, shame, confusion, but above all, pride — pride in David
Rossi's courage and strength.

The white mist from the Campagna pierced to the bone as
they came out by the glass-covered hall, and an old woman with
an earthenware scaldino, crouching by the marble pillars in the
street, held out a chill, damp hand and cried :

" A penny for God's sake ! May I die unconfessed if I've
eaten anything since yesterday. . . . God bless you, my
daughter ! and the Holy Virgin and all the Saints ! "

The streets were silent, and the noise of the carriage wheels
echoed between the high walls. It was late, and the electric
lights of the Via ISTazionale were hopping out one by one,
leaving a tunnel of darkness, broken by gas-lamps which
burned yellow in the marshy gloom, like a topaz in a brooch
of jet.

At the door of her house Roma parted from the Princess,

130 THE ETERNAL CITY

and said to Rossi, as the carriage drove away, " Come early
to-morrow. I've not yet been able to work properly somehow."

She was restless and feverish, and she would have gone to
bed immediately, but crossing the drawing-room she heard the
fretful voice of her aunt saying, " Is that you, Roma ? " and she
had no choice but to go into the Countess's bedroom.

A red lamp burned before the shrine, and the old lady was
in an embroidered nightdress, but she was wide awake, and her
eyes flashed and her lips trembled.

" Ah, it's you at last ! Sit down ! I want to speak to you.
Natalina ! " cried the Countess. " Oh, dear me, the girl has
gone to bed. Give me the cognac. There it is — on the dress-
ing-table."

She sipped the brandy, fidgeted with her cambric hand-
kerchief, and said :

" Roma, I'm surprised at you ! You hadn't used to be so
stupid! How? Don't you see what that woman is doing?
What woman ? ' The Princess, of course. Inviting you to share
her box at the opera so that you may be seen in public with
that man. She hates him like poison, but she would swallow
anything to throw you and this Rossi together. Do you expect
the Baron to approve of that? His enemy, and you on such
terms with the man? Here, take back this cognac. I feel as
if I would choke. — Natalina . . ."

" You're quite mistaken, Aunt Betsy," said Roma. " The
Baron was at the opera and came into the box himself, and he
approved of everything."

" Tut ! Don't tell me ! Because he has some respect for
himself and keeps his own counsel you are simple enough to
think he will not be offended. But I know him. I've known
him all my life. Even when he was a boy nobody could ever
make him cry. He was too proud to admit that any one could
hurt him. It's just the same now, and whatever you do to
humble him he will never allow himself to see it. But I see it,
and I say it is ungrateful and indecent."

The old lady's voice was dying down to a choking whisper,
but she went on without a pause.

" If you've no thought for yourself, you might have some
for me. You are young, and anything may come to you, but
I'm old and I'm tied down to this mattress, and what is to hap-
pen if the Baron takes offence ? The income he allows us from
your father's estates is under his own control still. He can cut
it off at any moment, and if he does, what is to become of me ? "

ROMA 131

Roma's bosom was swelling under her heavy breathing, her
heart was beating violently and her head was dizzy. All the
bitterness of the evening was boiling in her throat, and it burst
out at length in a flood.

" So that is all your moral protestations come to, is it ? " she
said. " Because the Baron is necessary to you and you cannot
exist without him, you expect me to buy and sell myself accord-
ing to your necessities."

" Roma ! What are you saying ? Aren't you ashamed . . ."

" Aren't you ashamed ? You've been trying to throw me
into the arms of the Baron, and you haven't cared what would
happen so long as I kept up ajjpearances."

" You ungrateful girl ! "

" You've done your best to break down every feeling of right
and wrong, and to make me think position and power and
wealth and rank are everything, no matter what price you pay
for them, and if anybody threatens them we are to fight for
them as dogs fight for a bone."

" Oh, dear ! I see what it is. You want to be the death of
me ! You will, too, before you've done. — Natalina ! Where
is . . ."

" More than that, you've poisoned my mind against my
father, and because I couldn't remember him, you've brought
me up to think of him as selfish and vain and indifl^erent to his
own daughter. But my father wasn't that kind of man at all."

" Who told you that, miss ? "

" Never mind who told me. My father was a saint and
a martyr, and a great man, and he loved me with all his heart
and soul."

" Oh, my head ! My poor head ! . . . A martyr indeed ! A
socialist, a republican, a rebel, an anarchist, you mean!"

" Xever mind what his politics were. He was my father —
that is enough — and you had no right to make me think ill of
him, whatever the world might do."

Roma was superb at that moment, with her head thrown
back, her eyes flaming, and her magnificent figure swelling and
heaving under her clinging gown.

" You'll kill me, I tell you. The cognac . . . ISTatalina
. . . ." cried the Countess, bvit Roma was gone.

Before going to bed Roma wrote to the Baron^ —

" Certain you are wrong. Why waste time sending Charles
Minghelli to London? Why? Why? Why? The forger will

132 THE ETERNAL CITY

find out nothing, and if he does, it will only be by exercise of
his Israelitish art of making bricks without straw. Stop him
at once if you wish to save public money and spare yourself
personal disappointment. Stop him! Stop him! Stop him!

" P.S. — To show you how far astray your man has gone,
D. E. mentioned to-night that he was once a waiter at the
Grand Hotel ! "

VI

Next morning David Rossi arrived early.

" iSTow we must get to work in earnest," said Roma. " I
think I see my way at last."

It was not John the beloved disciple, John who lay in the
bosom of his Lord. It was Peter, the devoted, stalwart, brave
individual, human, erring but glorious Peter. " Thou art
Peter, and on this rock I build my church."

" Same position as before. Eyes the other way. Thank
you! . . . Afraid you didn't enjoy yourself last night — no?"

" At the theatre ? I was interested. But the human spec-
tacle was perhaps more to me than the artistic one."

" You were thinking of the audience ? "

" Yes. If Italy is not content to be a simple museum of
curiosities, a school of singers and dancers, the cavaliere
servente of Europe, hanging on to the skirts of the other na-
tions, she must awake from some of her illusions. Neither
great armies nor great art will end the confusion and disorder
of a country in which the governing classes make merry while
the poor groan for bread. She must first reform her moral
essence — she will, too, as sure as man is on earth and God is
in heaven. But I am no artist, you see. . . . How did you be-
come a sculptor ? "

" Oh, I studied a little in the studios of Paris, where I went
to school, you see."

" But you were born in London ? "

" Yes."

" Why did you come to Rome ? "

" Rome was the home of my people, you know. And then
there was my name — Roma ! "

" T knew a Roma long ago."

" Really ? Another Roma ? "

There was a tremor in her voice.

ROMA 133

" It was the little daughter of the friend I've spoken about."

" How interest . . . No, at the window, please — that will
do."

Koma was choking with a sense of duplicity, but save for a
turn of the head David Rossi gave no sign.

" She was only seven when I saw her last."

" That was long ago, you say ? "

" Seventeen years ago."

" Then she will be the same age as . . ."

" The first time I saw her she was only three, and she was
in her nightdress ready for bed."

Roma laughed a little, but she knew that every note in her
voice was confused and false.

" She said her prayers with a little lisp at that time. ' Our
Fader oo art in heben, alud be dy name. ' "

He laughed a little now, as he mimicked the baby voice.
They laughed together, then they looked at each other, and then
with serious eyes they turned away.

" You'll think it strange, but I date my first conscious and
definite aspiration to the memory of that hour."

"Really?"

" Ten years afterward, when I was in America, looking for
the message which was to redeem the world, the words of that
prayer came back to me in Roma's little lisp. ' Dy kingum
turn. Dy will be done on card as it is in heben.' "

" So she . . ."

" She is responsible for everything, and whatever I do and
whatever the world does with me, she is the author of my work,
the loadstar of my life."

He mimicked the baby voice and laughed again, but she
could not join him now. This was the man she had set out
to betray ! She felt as if she had walked blindfold to the edge
of a precipice, and then some one had torn the bandage from
her eyes and shown the abyss beneath her feet.

For some time after that she worked on without speaking,
feeling feverish and restless. But just as the silence was be-
coming painful, and she could bear it no longer, Felice came
to announce lunch.

" You'll stay ? I want so much to work on while I'm in the
mood," she said.

" With pleasure," he replied.

She ate hardly at all, for she was troubled by many mis-
givings, and through the wall of the drawing-room the voice of

134 THE ETERNAL CITY

her aunt was hacking the air constantly as she called and
scolded the maid.

Did he know her? lie did; he must; every word, every
tone seemed to tell her that. Then why did he not speak out
plainly ? Because having revealed himself to her, he was wait-
ing for her to reveal herself to him. And why had she not
done so ? Because she was enmeshed in the nets of the society
she lived in ; because she was ashamed of the errand that had
brought them together; and most of all because she had not
dared to lay bare that secrcjt of his life which, like an escaped
convict, dragged behind it the broken chain of the prison-house.

David Leone is dead! To uncover, even to their own eyes
only, the fact that lay hidden behind those words was like per-
sonating the priest and listening at the grating of the con-
fessional !

No matter ! She must do it ! She must reveal herself as
her heart and instinct might direct. She must claim the
parentage of the noblest soul that ever died for liberty, and
David Rossi must trust his secret to the bond of blood which
would make it impossible for her to betray the foster-son of
her own father.

Having come to this conclusion, the light seemed to break
in her heavy sky, but the clouds were charged with electricity.
As they returned to the studio she was excited and a little
hysterical, for she thought the time was near. At that moment
a regiment of soldiers passed along under the ilex trees to the
Pincio, with their band of music playing as they marched.

" Ah, the dear old days ! " said David Rossi. " Everything
reminds me of them ! I remember that when she was six . . ."

" Roma ? "

" Yes — a regiment of troops returned from a glorious cam-
paign, and the Doctor took us to see the illuminations and
rejoicings. We came to a great piazza, almost as large as the
piazza of St. Peter's, with fountains and a tall column in the
middle of it."

" I knoAv— Trafalgar Square ! "

" Dense crowds covered the square, but Ave found a place on
the steps of a church."

" I remember — St. Martin's Church. You see, I know
London."

" The soldiers came in by the big railway station close
by ..."

" Charing Cross, isn't it? "

ROMA 135

" And they marched to the tune of the ' British Grenadiers,'
and the thunder of iifty thousand throats. And as their general
rode past, a beacon of electric lights in the centre of the square
blazed out like an aureole about the statue of a great English-
man who had died long ago for the cause which had then con-
quered."

" Gordon ! " she cried — she was losing herself every mo-
ment.

" ' Look, darling ! ' said the Doctor to little Roma. And
Roma said, ' Papa, is it God ? ' I was a tall boy then, and stood
beside him. ' She'll never forget that, David,' he said."

" And she didn't . . . she couldn't ... I mean . . . Have
you ever told me what became of her ? "

She would reveal herself in a moment — only a moment —
after all, it was delicious to play with this sweet duplicity.

" Have you ? " she said in a tremulous voice.

His head was down. " Dead ! " he answered, and the tool
dropped out of her hand on to the floor.

" I was five years in America after the police expelled me
from London, and when I returned to England I went back to
the little shop in Soho."

She was staring at him and holding her breath. He was
looking out of the window.

" The same people were there, and their own daughter was a
grown-up girl, but Roma was gone."

She could hear the breath in her nostrils.

" They told me she had been missing for a week, and
then . . . her body had been found in the river."

She felt like one struck dumb.

" The man took me to the grave. It was the grave of her
mother in Kensal Green, and under her mother's name I read
her own inscription — ' Sacred also to the memory of Roma
Roselli, found drowned in the Thames, aged twelve years.' "

The warm blood which had tingled through her veins was
suddenly frozen with horror.

" Not to-day," she thought, and at that moment a faint
sound of the band on the Pincio came floating in by the open
window.

" I must go," said David Rossi, rising.

Then she recovered herself and began to talk on other sub-
jects. When would he come again? He could not say. The
parliamentary session opened soon. He would be very busy.
But he would let her know, and perhaps . . .

136 THE ETERNAL CITY

She was holding out her hand and looking at him with a
nervous smile. Their hands clasped. She was conscious of an
answering pressure. The bells of St. Peter's rang the Ave
Maria, but they made less clamour in the crimsoning air
than the clamour in their hearts at that moment.

When David llossi was gone Roma went upstairs, and
Natalina met her carrying two letters. One of them was
going to the post — it was from the Countess to the Baron. The
other was from the Baron to herself.

Down the long terrace under the convent wall carriages
were returning from the Pincio through a mass of people on
foot — ladies, gentlemen, children, and wet-nurses in bright
garments, with great silver pins in their coal-black hair. Roma
in the boudoir read her letter: —

" My dearest Roma, — A thousand thanks for the valuable
clue about the Grand Hotel. Already we have followed up
your lead, and we find that the only David Rossi who was ever
a waiter there gave as reference the name of an Italian baker
in Soho. Minghelli has gone to London, and I am sending him
this further information. Already he is fishing in strange
waters, and I am sure you are dying to know if he has caught
anything. So am I, but we must possess our souls in patience.
Your enemy is lying low these days, so your wand must be over
him already. It is the way with these impetuous gentry, these
makers of revolution — always ready to take a sleeping draught
at the hands of a lovely woman. King David ? Yes, David and
Solomon, father and son, rolled into one ? Who was his father,
I wonder? We shall soon know.

" But, my dearest Roma, what is happening to your hand-
writing? It is so shaky nowadays that I can scarcely decipher
some of it. With love. B."

VII

" Dear Guardian, — But I'm not — I'm not ! I'm not in the
least anxious to hear of what Mr. Minghelli is doing in Lon-
don, because I know he is doing nothing, and whatever he says,
either through his own mouth or the mouth of his Italian
baker in Soho, I shall never believe a word he utters. As to Mr.
Rossi, I am now perfectly sure that he does not identify me at
all. He believes my father's daughter is dead, and he has just
been telling me a shocking story of how the body of a young

ROMA 137

girl was picked out of the Thames (about the time you took me
away from London) and buried in the name of Roma Roselli.
He actually saw the grave and the tombstone ! Some scoundrel
has been at work somewhere. Who is it, I wonder ? — Yours,

" R. V."

Having written this letter in the heat and haste of the first
moment after David Rossi's departure, she gave it to Bruno
to post immediately.

" Just so ! " said Bruno to himself, as he glanced at the
superscription.

i!^ext morning she dressed carefully, as if expecting David
Rossi as usual, but when he did not come she told herself she
was glad of it. Things had happened too hurriedly ; she wanted
time to breathe and to think.

All day long she worked on the bust. It was a new de-
light to model by memory, to remember an expression and
then try to reproduce it. The greatest difficulty lay in the
limitation of her beautiful art. There were so many memories,
so many expressions, and the clay would take but one of
them.

The next day after that she dressed herself as carefully
as before, but still David Rossi did not come. Xo matter ! It
would give her time to think of all he had said, to go over
his words and stories. There were the stories of her father, of
her mother, of his own boyhood, and (most intimate of all) the
stories of herself. How dangerously near to the brink of revela-
tion they had come sometimes ! How suddenly he had turned
to her as he said this, and when he said that how he looked at
her and smiled!

Did he know her ? Certainly he knew her ! He must have
known from the first that she was her father's daughter, or
he would never have put himself in her power. His belief in
her was such a sweet thing. It was delicious.

Yet no ! After all, he did not know her. He thought Roma
Roselli was dead. Why, then, did he trust her with his life's
secret ? She knew why — she thought she knew ! It was be-
cause— from the moment they met — at the first look into her
eyes . . .

But she dare not think of that. It was a sweeter thing still.
It was still more delicious.

]^ext day also David Rossi did not come, and she began
to torture herself with misgivings. Was he indifferent? Had
10

138 THE ETERNAL CITY

all her day-dreams been delusions? Little as she wished to
speak to Bruno, she was compelled to do so.

Bruno hardly lifted his eyes from his chisel and soft iron
hammer. " Parliament is to meet soon," he said, " and when
a man is leader of a party he has enough to do, you know."

" Ask him to come to-morrow. Say I wish for one more sit-
ting— only one."

" I'll tell him," said Bruno, with a bob of his head over the
block of marble.

But David Rossi did not come the next day either, and
Bruno had no better explanation.

" Busy with his new ' Republic ' now, and no time to waste,
I can tell you."

Bruno's brusqueness did not hurt her, for she had begun
to justify David Rossi's absence to her own mind. Why should
he come? He had his work to do, and it was a great work
for humanity, while she was only a trifler, an idler, a dilet-
tante.

" His thoughts are far away from me," she told herself.

The creeping misery of this idea deepened to distress when
three days more had passed and still David Rossi did not ap-
pear. It was now clear that he was avoiding her. The atmos-
phere in which she lived was hateful to him, and he could not
bear it.

" He will never come again," she thought, and then every-
thing around and within her grew dark and chill.

She was sleeping badly, and to tire herself at night she went
out to walk in the moonlight along the path under the convent
wall. She walked as far as the Pincio gates, where the path
broadens to a circular space under a table of clipped ilexes,
beneath which there is a fountain and a path going down to the
Piazza di Spagna. The night was soft and very quiet, and
standing under the deep shadows of the trees, with only the
cruel stars shining through, and no sound in the air save the
sobbing of the fountain, she heard a man's footstep on the
gravel coming up from below.

It was David Rossi. He passed within a few yards, yet he
did not see her. She wanted to call to him, but she could not
do so. For a moment he stood by the deep wall that overlooks
the city, and then turned down the path which she had come
by. A trembling thought that was afraid to take shape held
her back and kept her silent, but the stars beat kindly in an
instant and the blood in her veins ran warm. She watched

ROMA 139

him from where she stood, and then with a light foot she fol-
lowed him at a distance.

It was true ! Pie stopped at the parapet before the church,
and looked up at her windows. There was a light in one of
them, and his eyes seemed to be steadfastly fixed on it. Then
he turned to go down the steps. He went down slowly, some-
times stopping and looking up, then going on again. Once
more she tried to call to him. " Mr. Rossi." But her voice
seemed to die in her throat. After a moment he was gone, the
houses had hidden him, and the church clock was striking
twelve.

When she returned to her bedroom and looked at herself in
the glass, her face was flushed and her eyes were sparkling.
She did not want to sleep at all that night, for the beating of
her heart was like music, and the moon and the stars were
singing a song.

" If I could only be quite, quite sure ! " she thought, and
next morning she tackled Bruno.

Bruno was no match for her now, but he put down his
shaggj^ head like a bull that is facing a stone fence.

" Tell you the honest truth, Donna Eoma," he said,
" Mr. Rossi is one of those who think that when a man has
taken up a work for the world it is best if he has no ties of
family."

"Really? Is that so?" she answered. "But I don't un-
derstand. He can't help having father and mother, can he ? "

" He can help having a wife, though," said Bruno, " and
Mr. Rossi thinks a public man should be like a priest, giving
up home and love and so forth, that others may have them
more abtmdantly."

" So for that reason . . ."

" For that reason he doesn't throw himself in the way of
temptation."

" And you think that's why . . ."

" I think that's why he keeps out of the way of women."

" Perhaps he doesn't care for them — some men don't, you
know."

" Care for them ! Mr. Rossi is one of the men who think
pearls and diamonds of women, and if he had to be cast on a
desert island with anybody, he would rather have one woman
than a hundred thousand men."

The dear old stupid! He had fallen into her trap already,
and was telling her everything she wanted to know. But the

140 THE ETERNAL CITY

spirit of falsehood was gleaming in her eyes, and she said
demurely :

" Ah, yes, but perhaps there's no ' one woman ' in the world
for him yet, Bruno."

" Perhaps there is, perhaps there isn't," said Bruno, and
his hammer fell on the chisel and the white sparks began
to fly. _

" You would soon see if there were, wouldn't you, Bruno ? "

" Pcrhai)s I would, perhaps I wouldn't," said Bruno, and
then he wagged his wise head and growled, " In the battle of
love he wins Avho flies."

" Does he say that, Bruno? "

" He does. One day our old woman was trying to lead him
on a bit. ' A heart to share your joys and sorrows is something
in this world,' says she."

" And what did Mr. Rossi say ? "

" ' A woman's love is the sweetest thing in the world,' ho
said; 'but if I found myself caring too much for anybody I
should run away.' "

"Uid Mr. liossi really say that, Bruno?"

" He did — upon my life he did ! "

" So you think that now . . ."

" I think that now if I were a woman I should give up
thinking of him, and leave him to himself."

" It's good of you to speak so frankly, Bruno."

" Well, it wasn't a nice thing to do, bvit I made up my
mind to do it and it's done."

He had the air of a man who had achieved a moral victory,
and Roma, whose eyes were dancing with delight, wanted to
fall on his stupid, sulky face and kiss and kiss it.

Late that night she sat in her boudoir writing a letter. The
lamp was on her left, and it cast the shadow of her head on to
the curtain of a window on her right. Sometimes she glanced
at the shadow and laughed to think how unmistakable it must
be to any one seeing it from the outside. Then her cheeks
burned at the sense of her own foolishness and she returned to
her letter.

But the letter was foolish too. When it was finished it had
neither signature nor superscription, and was unfit for the
hand of any human postman. " Come to me ! Why don't you
come? I have so much to say to you. I have a confession to
make. It will be such a surprise! You think somebody is
dead, but she isn't; she is alive, and very close to you. How

ROMA 141

am I to tell you ? Should 1 play or sing something ? ' British
Grenadiers,' for example? Will you understand me by that, or
am I to speak quite plainly ? I must see you, and if you will
not come to me I must go to you. Perhaps you don't want
to come here any more. Let it be somewhere else then — some-
where outside the walls, somewhere in the country, where we
can be alone for a while, you and I together. Isn't this a per-
fectly shocking letter? But won't you write me another one
just as shocking ? Do ! "

She waited until the church clock struck twelve, and then
went to bed. There she dropped her letter into the Dead Letter
Office of Love — she put it under her pillow. And hearing the
rustle of the paper as she was falling asleep, she thought, " I'll
wake in the middle of the night and hear it, and then . . ."

It was very, very sweet, but it was very, very childish. Her
cheeks burned as before and she covered up her head.

During the afternoon of the day following the Princess
Bellini came in with Don Camillo. " Here's Gi-gi ! " she cried.
" He comes to say there's to be a meet of the foxhounds on
the Campagna to-morrow. If you'd like to come I'll take you,
and if you think Mr. Eossi will come too . . ."

" If he rides and has time to spare," said Roma.

" Precisely," said Don Camillo. " The worst of being a
prophet is that it gives one so much trouble to agree with one's
self, you know. Rumour says that our illustrious Deputy has
been a little out of odour with his own people lately, and is now
calling a meeting to tell the world what his ' Creed and Char-
ter ' doesn't mean. Still, a flight into the country might do no
harm even to the stormy petrel of politics, and if any one could
prevail with him . . ."

" Leave that to Roma, and see to everything else yourself,"
said the Princess. " On the way to that tiresome tea-room in
the Corso, my dear. ' Charity and Work,' you know. Com-
mittee for the protection of poor girls, or something. But we
must see the old aunt first, I suppose. Come in, Gi-gi ! "

Three minutes afterward Roma was dressed for the street,
and her dog was leaping and barking beside her.

" Carriage, Eccellenza ? ''

" ISTot to-day, thank you ! Down, Black, down ! Keep the
dog from following me, Felice."

As she passed the lodge the porter handed her an envelope
bearing the seal of the Minister, but she did not stop to open
it. With a light step she tripped along the street, hailed a

142 THE ETERNAL CITY

coupe, cried " Piazza !N"avona," and then composed herself to
read her letter.

When the Princess and Don Camillo came out of the
Countess's room Eoma was gone, and the dog was scratching
at the inside of the outer door.

" Now where can she have gone to so suddenly, I wonder ?
And there's her jjoor dog trying to follow her ! "

" Is that the dog that goes to the Deputy's apartment ? "

" Certainly it is ! His name is Black. I'll hold him while
you open the door, Felice. There ! Good dog ! Good Black !
Oh, the brute ! lie has broken away from me."

"Black! Black! Black!"

" No use, Felice. He'll be half way through the street by
this time."

And going down the stairs the little Princess whispered to
her companion : " Now, if Black comes home with his mistress
this evening it will be easy to see v/here she has been."

Meantime Roma, in her coupe, was reading her letter —

" Dearest, — Been away from Rome for a few days, and
hence the delay in answering your charming message. Don't
trouble a moment about the dead-and-buried nightmare. If
the story is true, so much the better. R. R. is dead, thank God,
and her unhappy wraith will haunt your path no more. But
if Dr. Rosclli knew nothing about David Rossi, how comes
it that David Rossi knows so much about Dr. Roselli ? It
looks like another clue. Thanks again. A thousand thanks !

" Still no news from London, but though I pretend neither
to knowledge nor foreknowledge, I am still satisfied that we are
on the right track.

" Dinner-party to-night, dearest, and I shall be obliged to
you if I may borrow Felice. Your Princess Potiphar, your
Don Saint Joseph, your Count Signorina, your Senator Tom-
tit, and — will you believe it ? — your Madame de Trop ! I can
deny you nothing, you see, but I am cruelly out of luck that
my dark house must lack the light of all drawing-rooms, the
sunshine of all Rome!

" How clever of you to throw dust in the eyes of your aunt
herself ! And these red-hot prophets in petticoats, how startled
they will soon be ! Adieu ! Boxelli."

As the coupe turned into the Piazza Navona, Roma was
tearing the letter into shreds and casting them out of the
window.

ROMA 143

VIII

While Roma climbed the last flight of stairs to David
Kossi's apartment, with the slippery-sloppery footsteps of the
old Garibaldi an going before, Bruno's thunderous voice was
rocking through the rooms above.

" Love who loves you, and who loves not leave ! That's my
philosophy, sir. What do you say, Joseph-Mazzini-Garibaldi i
Look at him, Mr. Rossi ! Republican, democrat, socialist, and
rebel! Upsets the government of this house once a day regu-
larly— dethrones the King and defies the Queen ! Catch the
piggy-wiggy. Uncle David ! Here goes for it — one, two, three,
and away ! "

Then shrieks and squeals of childish laughter, mingled with
another man's gentler tones, and a woman's frightened re-
monstrance. And then sudden silence and the voice of the
Garibaldian in a panting whisper, saying, " She's here again,
sir!"

" Donna Roma ? "

" Yes."

" Come in," cried David Rossi, and from the threshold to
the open hall she saw him, in the middle of the floor, with a
little boy pitching and heaving like a young sea-lion in his
arms.

He slipped the boy to his feet and said, " Run to the lady
and kiss her hand, Joseph." But the boy stood off shyly, and,
stepping into the room, Roma knelt to the child and put her
arms about him.

" What a big little man to be sure ! His name is Joseph, is
it? And what's his age? Six! Think of that! Have I
seen him before, Mrs. Rocco? Yes? Perhaps he w^as here
the day I called before? Was he? So? How stupid of me
to forget ! Ah, of course, now I remember, he was in his night-
dress and asleep, and Mr. Rossi was cai'rying him to bed."

The mother's heart was captured in a moment. " Do j'ou
love children. Donna Roma? "

" Indeed I do ! "

" ISTobody can be a good w^oman if she doesn't love chil-
dren," said Elena.

" And yet how strange ! " said Roma. " I must have had
no eyes for children for years, and now all at once the world
seems to be fvill of them."

During this passage between the women Bruno had grunted

144 THE ETERNAL CITY

his way out of the room, and was now sidling down the stair-
ease, being suddenly smitten by his conscience with the mem-
ory of a message he had omitted to deliver.

" Come, Joseph," said Elena. But Joseph, who had re-
covered from his bashfulness, was in no hurry to be off, and
Roma said :

" Xo, no ! I've only called for a moment. It is to say,"
turning to David Rossi, " that there's a meet of the foxhounds
on the Campagna to-morrow, and tell you from Don Camillo
that if you ride and would care to go . . ."

" You are going? "

" With the Princess, yes ! But there will be no necessity
to follow the hounds all day long, and perhaps coming
home . . ."

" I will be there."

" IIow charming ! That's all I came to say, and so . . ."

She made a pretence of turning to go, but he said :

" Wait ! Now that you are here I have something to show
to you."

"Tome?"

" Come in," he cried, and, blowing a kiss to the boy, Roma
followed Rossi into the sitting-room.

" One moment," he said, and lie left her to go into the bed-
room.

When he came back he had a small parcel in his hands
wrapped in a lace handkerchief. The handkerchief fell out
of his hands as he unwound it, and she saw at a glance it
was cftie of her own. Their eyes met in a flash of under-
standing, and for a moment he looked nervous and con-
fused.

" I'm afraid that is yours," he faltered. " You must have
dropped it when you were here before. I suppose I ought to
return it . . ."

" No ! Oh, no ! You're mistaken," she said, but her nerves
tingled and her blood danced.

He put the handkerchief into his breast-pocket and held
out a little picture which had been wrapped in it.

" We have talked so much of my old friend Roselli that I
thought you might like to see his portrait."

" His portrait? Have you really got his portrait? "

" Here it is," and he put into her hands the English photo-
graph which used to hang by his bed.

She took it eagerly and looked at it steadfastly, while her

ROMA 145

lips trembled and her eyes grew moist. There was silence for
a moment, and then she said, in a voice that struggled to
control itself, "So this was the father of little Roma? "

« Yes."

" Is it very like him ? "

" Very."

" What a beautiful face ! What a reverend head ! Did
he look like that on the day . . . the day he was at Kensai
Green?"

" Exactly."

" And on the night he took the doll back to Soho ? "

" Yes."

The excitement she laboured under could no longer be
controlled, and she lifted the picture to her lips and kissed
it. Then catching her breath, and looking up at him with
swimming eyes, she laughed through her tears and said :

" That is because he was your friend, and because . . ,
because he loved my little namesake."

David Rossi did not reply, and the silence was too audible,
. so she said, with another nervous laugh:

" Not that I think she deserved such a father. He must
have been the best father a girl ever had, but she . . ."

" She was a child," said David Rossi.

" Still, if she had been worthy of a father like that . . ."

" She was only seven, remember."

" Even so, but if she had not been a little seliish . . .
wasn't she a little selfish ? "

" You mustn't abuse my friend Roma."

Her eyes beamed, her cheeks burned, her nerves tingled.
It would be a sweet delight to egg him on, but she dare not go
any further.

" I beg your pardon," she said in a soft voice. " Of course
you know best. And pei'haps years afterwards when she came
to think of what her father had been to her . . . that is to say
if she lived . . ."

Their eyes met again, and now hers fell in confusion.

" I want to give you that portrait," he said.

"Me?"

" You would like to have it ? "

" More than anything in the world. But you value it your-
self?"

" Beyond anything I possess."

" Then how can I take it from you ? "

146 THE ETERNAL CITY

" There is only one person in the world I would give it to.
She has it, and I am contented."

It was impossible to bear the strain any longer without
crying out, and to give physical expression to her feelings
she lifted the portrait to her lips again and kissed and
kissed it.

He smiled at her, she smiled back; the silence was hard to
break, but just as they were on the edge of the precipice the
big shock-head of the little boy looked in on them through the
chink of the door and cried :

" Yovi needn't ask me to come in, 'cause I won't ! "

By the blessed instinct of the motherhood latent in her,
Roma understood the boy in a moment. " If I were a gentle-
man I would, though," she said.

" Would you ? " said Joseph, and in he came, with a face
shining all over.

" Hurrah ! A piano ! " said Eoma, leaping up and seat-
ing herself at the instrument. " What shall I play for you,
Joseph ? "

Joseph was indifferent so long as it was a song, and with
head aside, Roma touched the keys and pretended to think.
After a moment of sweet duplicity she struck up the air she had
come expressly to play.

It was the " British Grenadiers." She sang a verse of it.
She sang in English and with the broken pronunciation of a
child —

" Some talk of Allisander, and some of Ilcrgoles;
Of Hector and Eyesander, and such gate names as these . . ."

The boy had caught the lilt in a moment and was marching
to the tune. David Rossi was standing with his foot on the
fender and his face to the fire. Roma was looking from one to
the other and watching both.

" But of all the world's gate he-e-roes ..."

Suddenly she became aware that David Rossi was looking
at her through the glass on the mantel-piece, and to keep her-
self from crying she began to laugh, and the song came to an
end.

At the same moment the door burst open with a bang, and
the dog came bounding into the room. Behind it came Elena,
who said —

ROMA 147

" It was scratching at the staircase door, and I thought it
must have followed you."

" Followed Mr. Rossi, you mean. He has stolen my dog's
heart away from me," said Roma.

" That is what I say about my boy's," said Elena.

" But Joseph is going for a soldier, I see."

" It's a porter he wants to be."

" Then so he shall — he shall be my porter some day," said
Roma, whereupon Joseph was frantic with delight, and Elena
was saying to herself, " What wicked lies they tell of her — I
wonder they are not ashamed ! "

The fire was going down and the twilight was deepening.

" Shall I bring you the lamp, sir ? " said Elena.

" Not for me," said Roma. " I ara going immediately."
But even when mother and child had gone she did not go. Un-
consciously they drew nearer and nearer to each other in the
gathering darkness, and as the daylight died their voices
softened and there were quiet questions and low replies. The
desire to speak out was struggling in the woman's heart with
the delight of silence. But she would reveal herself at last.

" I have been thinking a great deal about the story they
told you in London — of Roma's death and burial, I mean. Had
you no reason to think it might be false ? "

" None whatever."

" It never occurred to you that it might be to anybody's
advantage to say that she was dead while she was still alive ? "

" How could it ? Who was to perpetrate a crime for the
sake of the daughter of a poor doctor in Soho — a poor prisoner
in Elba ? "

" Then it was not until afterwards that you heard that the
poor Doctor was a great prince ? "

" Not until the night you were here before."

" And you had never heard anything of his daughter in the
interval ? "

" Once I had ! It was on the same day, though. A man
came here from London on an infamous errand . . ."

" What was his name ? "

" Charles Minghelli."

"What did he say?"

" He said Roma Roselli was not dead at all, but worse than
dead — that she had fallen into the hands of an evil man, and
turned out badly."

" Did you . . . did you believe that story ? "

148 THE ETERNAL CITY

" Not one word of it ! I called the man a liar, and flung
him out of the house."

" Then you . . . you think ... if she is still living . . ."

" My Koma is a good woman."

Her face burned up to the roots of her hair. She choked
with joy, she choked with pain. His belief in her purity stifled
her. She could not speak now — she could not reveal herself.
There was a moment of silence, and then in a tremulous voice
she said :

" Will you not call me Koma, and try to think I am your
little friend ? "

When she came to herself after that she was back in her
own apartment, in her aunt's bedroom, and kissing the old
lady's angular face. And the Countess was breaking up the
stupefaction of her enchantment with sighs and tears and
words of counsel.

" I only want you to preserve yourself for your proper
destiny, Koma. You are the fiancee of the Baron, as one
might say, and the poor maniac can't last long. As for what
you said so cruelly about breaking down feelings and so forth,
God is merciful, and there are things which can be atoned for
by prayer and fasting. But I implore you not to put yourself
in the power of society. It never forgives anybody who forgets
the good old respectabilities — and quite right, too ! "

Before dressing for dinner Koma replied to the Minister: —

" Dkar Baron Bonklli, — Didn't I tell you that Minghelli
would find out nothing? I am now more than ever sure that
the whole idea is an error. Take my advice and drop it. Drop
it ! Drop it ! I shall, at all events ! — Yours,

" Koma Volonna.

" Success to the dinner ! Am sending Felice. He will give
you this letter.— K. V."

IX

It was the sv/eetest morning of the Koman winter. The sun
shone with a gentle radiance, and the motionless air was
fragrant with the odour of herbs and flowers. Outside the gate
which leads to the old Appian Way grooms were waiting with
horses, blanketed and hooded, and huntsmen in red coats, white
breeches, pink waistcoats, and black boots, were walking their

ROMA 149

mounts to the place appointed for the meet. In a line of car-
riages were many ladies, some in riding-habits, and on foot
there was a string of beggars, most of them deformed, with
here and there, at little villages, a group of rosy children
watching the procession as it passed.

The American and English Ambassadors were riding side
by side behind a magnificent carriage with coachman and tiger
in livery of scarlet and gold.

" Who would think, to look on a scene like this, that the
city is seething with dissatisfaction? " said the Englishman.

" Rome ? " said the American. " Its aristocratic indiffer-
ence will not allow it to believe that here, as everywhere else in
the world, great and fatal changes are going on all the time.
These lands, for example — to whom do they belong? Nomi-
nally to the old Roman nobility, but really to the merchants
of the Campagna — a company of middlemen who grew rich
by leasing them from the princes and subletting them to the
poor."

" And the nobles themselves — how are they faring ? "

" Badly ! Already they are of no political significance, and
the State knows them not."

" They don't appear to go into the army or navy — what do
they go into ? "

" Love ! Their chief occupation is to marry their old Italian
titles to our young English and American fortunes. We help
them to it, too ! Mrs. Iliram P. Power is always around with
her daughter and her dollars. She's here this morning — you'll
find her all over the place," and the American made a broad
sweep of his hand toward the carriages front and back.

" She leaves the worthy president of the Drill Hole Com-
pany slaving away in Wall Street, while she plays stewardess
of the commissariat at the Grand Hotel to a troop of Italian
tom-tits who chatter about their hearts, but have no sincerity,
no reverence, no enthusiasm, and only one idea of the resur-
rection of Rome — a reckless social life, reproducing the vices of
antiquity with the facilities of modern civilisation."

"And meantime the Italian people?"

" Meantime the great Italian people, like the great English
people, the great German people, and the people of every coun-
try where the privileged classes still exist, are rising like a
mighty wave to sweep all this sea-wrack high and dry on to the
rocks."

" And this wave of the people," said the Englishman, in-

150 THE ETERNAL CITY

dining his head towards the carriage in front, " is represented
by men like friend Rossi 'i "

" Would be, if he could keep himself straight," said the
American. " He has the big idea to begin with. Liberty
against Authority! Humanity against Empire! That's the
way I'm figuring it, sir, and I call it the most revolutionary
idea that has been put into operation since those early Chris-
tians used to meet in these catacombs. They had the big idea,
too. Csesar or Christ, which is it to be? But now Caesar and
Christ seem to be Siamese twins, and to share the throne to-
gether."

" And where is the Tarpeian rock of friend Rossi's poli-
tics?"

The American slapped his glossy boot with his whip, low-
ered his voice, and said, " There ! "

"Donna Roma?"

" A fortnight ago you heard his speech on the liveries of
scarlet and gold, and look ! He's under them himself already."

" You think there is no other inference ? "

The American shook his head. " Always the way with
these leaders of revolution. It's Samson's strength with Sam.-
son's weakness in every mother's son of them."

" I cannot reconcile myself to your interpretation. General,
and I'll stick to my faith in Donno Roma in spite of all," said
the Englishman.

" Good-morning, General Potter ! " said a cheerful voice
from the carriage in front.

It was Roma herself. She sat by the side of the little
Princess, with David Rossi on the seat before them. Her eyes
were bright, there was a glow in her cheeks, and she looked
lovelier than ever in her close-fitting riding-habit.

The men rode up to the carriage, and there were saluta-
tions and introductions. Roma was in high spirits, and she
tossed back the shuttlecock of the American's playful talk with
jest and laughter.

" I had no conception you were such a boy until I saw you
in a red coat. General."

" Ah, you lovely young coward ! You can dare to say that
to my grey head, can't you ? "

With such light fence they passed down the old dead road
with its little shrines, its broken blocks of stone, and its scat-
tered wrecks of the graves of men and women.

At the meeting-place there was a vast crowd of on-lookers.

ROMA 151

chiefly foreigners, in cabs and carriages and four-in-hand
coaches from the principal hotels. The Master of the Hunt
was ready, with his impatient hounds at his feet, and around
him was a brilliant scene. Officers in blue, huntsmen in red,
ladies in black, jockeys in jackets, a sea of feathers and flowers
and sunshades, with the neighing of the horses and yapping of
the dogs, the vast undulating country, the smell of earth and
herbs, and the morning sunlight over all.

Don Camillo was waiting with horses for his party, and
they mounted immediately. The horse for Roma was a quiet
bay mare with limpid eyes. General Potter helped her to
the saddle, and she went cantering through the long lush
grass.

" What has your charming young charge been doing with
herself, Princess," said the American. " She was always beau-
tiful, but to-day she's lovely."

" She's like Undine after she had found her soul," said the
Englishman.

The little Princess laughed. " Love and a cough cannot
be hidden, gentlemen," she whispered, with a look toward David
Rossi.

" You don't mean . . ."

" Hush ! "

Meantime Rossi, in ordinary walking dress, was approach-
ing the horse he was intended to ride. It was a high strong-
limbed sorrel with wild eyes and panting nostrils. The Eng-
lish groom who held it was regarding the rider with a doubtful
expression, and a group of booted and spurred huntsmen were
closing around.

To everybody's surprise, the Deputy gathered up the reins
and leaped lightly to the saddle, and at the next moment he
was riding at Roma's side. Then the horn was sounded, the
pack broke into music, the horses beat their hoofs on the turf
and the hunt began.

There was a wall to jump first, and everybody cleared it
easily until it came to David Rossi's turn, when the sorrel re-
fused to jump. He patted the horse's neck and tried it again,
but it snorted, shied, and went off with its head between its
legs. A third time he brought the sorrel up to the wall, and
a third time it swerved aside.

The hunters had waited to watch the result, and as the
horse came up for a foiirth trial, with its wild eyes flashing, its
nostrils quivering, and its forelock tossed over one ear, it wa9

152 THE ETERNAL CITY

seen that the bridle had broken and Rossi was riding with one
rein.

" He'll be lucky if he isn't hurt," said some one.

" Why doesn't he give it the whip over its quarters ? " said
another.

But David Rossi only patted his horse until it came to the
spot where it had shied before. Then he reached over its neck
on the side of the broken rein, and with open hand struck it
sharply across the nose. The horse reared, snorted, and
jumped, and at the next moment it was standing quietly on
the other side of the wall.

Roma, on her bay mare, was ashen pale, and the American
Ambassador turned to her and said:

" Xever knew bvit one man to do a thing like that. Donna
Roma."

Roma swallowed something in her throat and said, " Who
was it. General Potter ? "

" The present Pope when he was a Noble Guard."

" He can ride, by Jove ! " said Don Camillo.

" That sort of stuff has to be in a man's blood. Born in
him — must be ! " said the Englishman.

And then David Rossi came vip with a new bridle to his
sorrel, and Sir Evelyn added, " You handle a horse like a man
who began early, Mr. Rossi."

" Yes," said David Rossi, " I was a stable-boy two years
in IvTew York, your Excellency."

At that moment the huntsman who was leading with two
English terriers gave the signal that the fox was started, where-
upon the hounds yelped, the whips whistled, and the horses
broke into a canter.

Two hours afterw'ards the poor little creature that had been
the origin of the holiday was tracked to earth and killed. Its
head and tail were cut off, and the rest of its body was thrown
to the dogs. After that flasks were taken out, healths were
drunk, cheers were given, and then the hunt broke up, and the
hunters began to return at an easy trot.

Roma and David Rossi were riding side by side, and the
Princess was a pace or two behind them.

" Roma ! " cried the Princess, " what a stretch for a
gallop ! "

" Isn't it ? " said Roma, and in a moment she was off.

" I believe her mare has mastered her," said the Princess,
and at the next instant David Rossi was gone too.

ROMA 153

" Peace be with them ! They're a lovely pair ! " said the
Princess, laughing. " But we might as well go home. They
are like Undine, and will return no more.'"

Meantime, with the light breeze in her ears, and the beat of
her horse's hoofs echoing among the aqueducts and tombs,
Roma galloped over the broad Campagna. After a moment she
heard some one coming after her, and for joy of being pursued
she whipped up and galloped faster. Without looking back
she knew who was behind, and as her horse flew over the hillocks
her heart leaped and sang. When the strong-limbed sorrel
came up with the quiet bay mare, they were nearly two miles
from their starting-place, and far out of the track of their fel-
low-hunters. Both were aglow from head to foot, and as they
drew rein they looked at each other and laughed.

" Might as well go on now, and come out by the English
cemetery," said Roma.

" Good ! " said David Rossi.

" But it's half-past two," said Roma, looking at her little
watch, " and I'm as hungry as a hunter."

" Xaturally," said David Rossi, and they laughed again.
There was an osteria somewhere in that neighbourhood. He
had known it when he was a boy. They would dine on yellow
beans and maccaroni.

"What a lovely world it is!" she said, pretending to look
round at the landscape.

" It is a lovely world," he answered, and then they laughed
once more.

Monte Genario's snow-capped peak was shining in hues of
opal and rose, and the Sabine hills looked bright and near, with
Tivoli and Palestrina trembling in a purple haze. But riding
side by side they were in a world that was all their own. and
the golden cloud that wrapped them round shut out everything
else on earth.

Presently they saw a house smoking under a scraggy clump
of eucalyptus. It was the osteria, half farmstead and half inn.
A timid lad took their horses, an evil-looking old man bowed
them into the porch, and an elderly woman, with a frightened
expression and a face wrinkled like the bark of a cedar, brought
them a bill of fare.

They lansrhed at everything — at the unfamiliar menu, be-
ll

154 THE ETERNAL CITY

cause it was soiled enough to have served for a year; at the
food, because it was so simple; and at the prices, because they
were so cheap.

Roma looked over David Rossi's shoulder as he read out the
bill of fare, and they ordered the dinner together.

" Maccaroni — threepence ! Right ! Trout — fourpence !
Shall we have fourpennyworth of trout? Good! Lamb — six-
pence! We'll take two lambs — I mean two sixpennyworth's,"
and then more laughter.

While the dinner was cooking they went out to walk among
the eucalyptus, and came upon a beautiful dell surrounded by
trees and carpeted with wild flowers.

" Carnival ! " cried Roma. " Now if there was anybody
here to throw a flower at one ! "

He picked up a handful of violets and tossed them over her
head.

" When I was a boy this was where men fought duels,"
said David Rossi.

" The brutes ! What a lovely spot ! Must be the place
where Pharaoh's daughter found Moses in the bulrushes ! "

" Or where Adam found Eve in the garden of Eden 1 "

They looked at each other and smiled.

" What a surprise that must have been to him," said Roma.
" Whatever did he think she was, I wonder ? "

" An angel who had come down in the moonlight and for-
gotten to go up in the morning ! "

" ISTonsense ! He wovild know in a moment she was a
woman."

" Think of it! She was the only woman in the world for
him?"

" And fancy ! He was the only man ! "

The dinner was one long delight. Even its drawbacks were
no disadvantage. The table had been laid on a vine terrace,
which being thinned of its leaves by the cold of winter, revealed
an untidy farmyard with neglected pig-styes, but Roma would
not have things changed.

" Beautiful ! " she said. " We see the pig-styes slantwards
from here," and then they laughed again, and the wizened old
woman who waited, laughed with them, and called Roma
" Little Sister."

Roma had begun to speak in English. " 'No use hurting
the old lady," she whispered across the table, and David Rossi
pretended to be deceived.

ROMA 155

"A beauty, isn't she?"

" Yes, the old man is afraid she'll be kidnapped for a Ma-
donna," and then they laughed once more, and the old woman,
being a true daughter of the soil, laughed for joy of their
merry laughter.

The food was bad, and it was badly cooked and badly served,
but nothing mattered.

" Only one fork for all these dishes ? " asked David Rossi.

" That's the best of it," said Eoma. " You only get one
dirty one."

Suddenly she dropped knife and fork, and held up both
hands. " I forgot ! "

"What?"

" I was to be Little Roma all day to-day."

" Why, so you are, and so you have been."

" That cannot be, or you would call her by her name, you
know."

" I'll do so the moment she calls me by mine."

" That's not fair," said Roma, and her face flushed up, for
the wine of life had risen to her eyes.

In a vineyard below a girl working among the orange-trees
was singing stornelU. It was a song of a mother to her son.
He had gone away from the old roof-tree, but he would come
back some day. His new home was bright and big, but the
old hearthstone would draw him home. Beautiful ladies
loved him, but the white-haired mother would kiss him
again.

They listened for a short dreaming space, and their laughter
ceased and their eyes grew moist. Then they called for the
bill, and the old man with the evil face came up with a forged
smile from a bank that had clearly no assets of that kind to
draw upon.

" You've been a long time in this house, landlord," said
David Rossi.

" Very long time, Excellency," said the man.

" You came from the Ciociaria."

" Why, yes, I did," said the man, with a look of surprise.
" I was poor then, and later on I lived in the caves and grottoes
of Monte Parioli."

" But you knew how to cure the phylloxera in the vines, and
when your master died you married his daughter and came into
his vineyard."

" Angelica ! Here's a gentleman who knows all about us,"

156 THE ETERNAL CITY

said the old man, and then, grinning from ear to ear, he
added —

" Perhaps your Excellency was the young gentleman who
used to visit with his father at the Count's palace on the hill
twenty to thirty years ago ? "

David Rossi looked him steadfastly in the face and said,
" Do you remember the poor boy who lived with you at that
time?"

The forged smile was gone in a moment. " We had no boy
then, Excellency."

" He came to you from Santo Spirito and you got a hundred
francs with him at first, and then you built this pergola."

" If your Excellency is from the Foundling, you may tell
them again, as I told the priest who came before, that we never
took a boy from there, and we had no money from the people
who sent him to London."

" You don't remember him, then ? "

" Certainly not."

"Nor you?"

The old woman hesitated, and the old man made mouths
at her.

" No, Excellency."

David Rossi took a long breath. " Here is the amount of
your bill, and something over. Good-bye ! "

The timid lad brought round the horses and the riders
prepared to mount. Roma was looking at the boy with pity-
ing eyes.

" How long have you been here ? " she asked.

" Ten years, Excellency," he replied.

He was just twelve years of age and both his parents were
dead.

" Poor little fellow ! " said Roma, and before David Rossi
could prevent her she was emptying her purse into the boy's
hand.

They set off at a trot, and for some time they did not ex-
change a word. The sun was sinking and the golden day was
dying down. Over the broad swell of the Campagna, treeless,
houseless, a dull haze was creeping like a shroud, and the long
knotted grass was swept by the chill breath of evening. Noth-
ing broke the wide silence of the desolate space except the low-
ing of cattle, the bleat of sheep that were moving in masses
like the woolly waves of a sea, the bark of big white dogs, the
shouts of cowherds carrying long staves, and of shepherds rid-

ROMA 157

ing on shaggy ponies. Here and there were wretched straw
huts, with groups of fever-stricken people crouching over the
embers of miserable fires, and here and there were dirty pot-
houses, which alternated with wooden crosses of the Christ and
glass-covered shrines of the Madonna.

The rhythm of the saddles ceased and the horses walked.

" Was that the place where you were brought up ? " said
Roma.

" Yes."

" And those were the people who sold you into slavery, so
to speak ? "

" Yes."

" And you could have confounded them with one word,
and did not ! "

" What was the use ? Besides, they were not the first
offenders."

" No, your father was more to blame. Don't you feel
sometimes as if you could hate him for what he has made
you suffer ? "

David Rossi shook his head. " I was saved from that bit-
terness by the saint who saved me from so much besides.
* Don't try to find out who your father is, David,' he said, ' and
if by chance you ever do find out, don't return evil for evil, and
don't avenge yourself on the world. By and by the world will
know you for what you are yourself, not for what your father
is. Perhaps your father is a bad man, perhaps ho isn't.
Leave him to God ! ' "

" It's a terrible thing to think evil of one's own father, isn't
it ? " said Roma, but David Rossi did not reply.

" And then — who knows ? — perhaps some day you may dis-
cover that your father deserved your love and pity after all."

" Perhaps ! "

They had drawn up at another hcjuse under a thick clump
of eucalyptus trees. It was the Trappist Monastery of Tre
Fontane. Silence was everywhere in this home of silence.
Leaving the horses at the lodge, they walked through the outer
courts. They looked in at the windows of the library, where a
white- faced youth was bending in silence over a book. They
stood a moment at the door of the chapel, where the service of
Benediction was being sung in silence, with no sound but the
tinkling of a bell. Only the birds were singing aloiid — the
nightingales in the tall grey trees.

There was a clock tower, and they went up on to the roof.

158 THE ETERNAL CITY

From that height the whole world around seemed to be in-
vaded by silence. It was like a sea after a storm, and the rem-
nants of the cities that lay dead under the Campagna were
the driftwood from the wrecks of a mighty fleet that was swal-
lowed up and gone. The long line of aqueducts that stretch
across the undulating waste looked like ships with torn sails
heading back to port after a lost battle, and Kome in the dis-
tance, rising out of puri)le haze, was a half-submerged island
on which the great dome of St. Peter's rested like an ark.

The silence of the world from that clock-tower was the
silence of all sacred things, the silence of the mass; and the
undying paganism in the hearts of the two that stood there had
its eloquent silence also.

Roma was leaning on the pai'apct with David Rossi behind
her, when suddenly she began to weep. She wept violently
and sobbed.

" What is it? " he asked, but she did not answer.

After a while she grew calm and dried her eyes, called her-
self foolish and began to laugh. But tlie heart-beats were too
audible without saying something, and at length she tried
to speak.

"It was the poor boy at the inn," she said; "the sight of
his sweet face brought back a scene I had quite forgotten," and
then, in a faltering voice, turning her head away, she told him
everything.

" It was in London, and my father had found a little Roman
boy in the streets on a winter's night, carrying a squirrel and
playing an accordion. He wore a tattered suit of velveteens,
and that was all that sheltered his little body from the cold.
His fingers were frozen stiff, and he fainted when they brought
him into the house. After a while he opened his eyes, and
gazed around at the fire and the faces about him, and seemed
to be looking for something. It was his squirrel, and it was
frozen dead. But he grasped it tight and big tears rolled on to
his cheeks, and he raised himself as if to escape. He was
too weak for that, and my father comforted him and he lay
still. That was when I saw him first ; and looking at the poor
boy at the inn I thought ... I thought perhaps he was an-
other . . . perhaps my little friend of long ago . . ."

Her white throat was throbbing, and her faltering voice
was failing like a pendulum that is about to stop.

" Roma ! " he cried over his shoulder,

" David ! "

ROMA 159

Their eyes met, their hands clasped, their pent-up secret was
out, and in the dim-lit catacombs of love two souls stood face
to face.

" How long have you known it ? " she whispered.

" Since the night you came to the Piazza Xavona. And

you

2"

" Since the moment I heard your voice." And then she
shuddered and laughed.

When they left the house of silence a blessed hush had
fallen on them, a great wonder which they had never known
before, the wonder of the everlasting miracle of human hearts.

The sun was setting behind Kome in a glorious blaze of
crimson, with the domes of churches glistening in the hori-
zontal rays, and the dark globe of St. Peter's hovering over all.
The mortal melancholy which had been lying over the world
seemed to be lifted away, and the earth smiled with flowers and
the heavens shone with gold.

Only the rhythmic cadence of the saddles broke the silence
as they swung to the movement of the horses. Sometimes they
looked at each other, and then they smiled, but they did
not speak.

The sun went down, and there was a far-off ringing of bells.
It was Ave Maria. They drew up the horses for a moment and
dropped their heads. Then they started again.

The night chills were coming, and they rode hard. Roma
bent over the mane of her horse and looked proud and happy.

Grooms were waiting for them at the gate of St. Paul, and,
giving up their horses, they got into a carriage. When they
reached Trinita de' Monti the lamplighter was lighting the
lamps on the steps of the piazza, and Roma said in a low voice,
with a blush and a smile :

" Don't come in to-night — not to-night, you know."

She wanted to be alone.

XI

Felice met Roma at the door of her own apartment, and
in more than usually sepulchral tones announced that the
Countess had wished to see her as soon as she came home.
Without waiting to change her riding-habit, Roma turned
into her aunt's room.

The old lady was propped up with pillows, and Natalina was
fussing about her. Her eyes glittered, her thin lips were com-

160 'I'^J*^ ETERNAL CITY

pressed, and regardless of the presence of the maid, she
straightway fell upon Koma with bitter reproaches.

" Did you wish to see me, aunt ? " said Roma, and the old
lady answered in a mocking falsetto :

" Did I wish to see you, miss ? Certainly I wished to see
you, although I'm a broken-hearted woman and sorry for the
day I saw you first."

" What have I done now ? " said Roma, and the radiant look
in her face provoked the old lady to still louder denunciations.

" What have you done? Mercy me! . . . Give me my salts,
Natalina!"

" Xatalina," said Roma quietly, " lay out my studio things,
and if Bruno has gone, tell Felice to light the lamps and see to
the stove downstairs."

The old lady fanned herself with her embroidered handker-
chief and began again.

" I thought you meant to mend your ways when you came
in yesterday, miss — you were so meek and modest. But what
was the fact? You had come to me straight from that man's
apartments. You had! You know you had! Don't try to
deny it."

" I don't deny it," said Roma.

"Holy Virgin! She doesn't deny it! Perhaps you ad-
mit it?"

"I do admit it."

"Madonna mitt! She admits it! Perhaps you made an
appointment? "

" Xo, I went without an appointment."

" Merciful heavens ! She is on such terms with the man
that she can go to his apartments without even an appoint-
ment! Perhaps you were alone with him, miss?"

" Yes, we were quite alone," said Roma.

The old lady, who was apparently about to faint right away,
looked up at her little shrine, and said :

"(loodness! A girl! iVot even a married woman! And
without a maid, too ! "

Trying not to lose control of hers(ilf, Roma stepix-d to the
door, but her aunt followed her up.

" A man like that, too ! Not even a gentleman ! The hypo-
crite! The impostor! With his airs of purity and pretence!"

" Aunt Betsy," said Roma, " I was sorry I si)oke to you as I
did the other night, not because anything I said was wrong, but
because you are weak and bedridden and suffering. Don't pro-

ROMA 161

voke me to speak again as I spoke before. I did go to Mr.
Kossi's rooms yesterday, and if there is any fault in tliat, I
alone am to blame."

" Are you indeed ? " said the old lady, with a shrill piping
cry. " Holy Saints ! she admits so much ! Do you know what
people will call you when they hear of it? A hussy. A
shameless hussy ! ''

Koma was flaming up, but she controlled herself and put
her hand on the door-handle.

" They will hear of it, depend on that," cried the Countess.
" Last night at dinner the women were talking of nothing else.
Felice heard all their chattering. That woman let the dog out
to follow you, knowing it would go straight to the man's rooms.
' Whom did it come home with, Felice ? ' ' Donna Koma, your
Excellency.' ' Then it's clear where Donna Roma had been.'
Ugh! I could choke to think of it. My head is fit to split!
Is there any cognac . . . ? "

Roma's bosom was visibly stirred by her breathing, but she
answered quietly:

" No matter ! Why should I care what is thought of my
conduct by people who have no morality of their own to
judge me by ? "

" Really now ? " said the Countess, twisting the wrinkles of
her old face into skeins of mock courtesy. " Upon my word, I
didn't think you were so simple. Understand, miss, it isn't the
opinion of the Princess Bellini I am thinking about, but that of
the Baron Bonelli. He has his dignity to consider, and when
the time comes and he is free to take a wife, he is not likely to
marry a girl who has been talked of with another man. Don't
you see what that woman is doing? She has been doing it all
along, and like a simpleton you've been helping her. You've
been flinging away your chances with this Rossi and making
yourself impossible to the Minister."

Roma tossed her head and answered :

" I don't care if I have. Aunt Betsy. I'm not of the same
mind as I used to be, and I think no longer that the holiest
things are to be bought and sold like so much merchandise."

The old lady, who had been bending forward in her vehe-
mence, fell back on the pillow.

" You'll kill me ! " she cried. " Where did you learn such
folly? Goodness knows I've done my best by you. I have
tried to teach you your duty to the Baron and to Society. But
all this comes of admitting these anarchists into the house.

162 THE ETERNAL CITY

You can't help it, though! It's in your blood! Tour father

before you . . ."

Crimson and trembling from head to foot, Roma turned
suddenly and left the room. Natalina and Felice were listen-
ing on the other side of the door.

But not even this jarring incident could break the spell of
Roma's enchantment, and when dinner was over, and she had
gone to the studio and closed the door, the whole world seemed
to be shut out, and nothing was of the slightest consequence.
If she remembered her aunt's anger, she thought, " My father
bore more than that for me." If she recalled the schemes
of the Princess, she told herself they were petty and vain.
She had undergone transition to another state of being, and
was wrapped in a golden cloud which included only one person
beside herself.

Taking the damp cloth from the bust, she looked at her
work again. In the light of the aurora she now lived in, the
head she had wrought with so much labour was poor and in-
adequate. It did not represent the original. It was weak
and wrong.

She set to work again, and little by little the face in the clay
began to change. Not Peter any longer, Peter the disciple, but
Another. It was audacious, it was shocking, but no matter!
She was not afraid.

Time passed, but she did not heed it. She was working at
lightning speed, and with a power she had never felt before.
Sometimes she stood off from the bust to look at it, then came
back and went on again. The hot blood was in her cheeks.
She was glowing, breathing hard, laughing little trills of
laughter, but working on, on, on.

And while she worked, the influence of her new life was fill-
ing her mind with pictures. She was going over every incident
of the day, every Avord, every tone, every little trivial thing. It
was all so mysterious, so miraculous. The violets he had
plucked in the dell were her favourite flowers. Were they his
also? How strange! A look of pain had crossed his face when -
she dismissed him at the door. Had he wished to come in?
How sweet that was! It was like galloping on the Campagna
with some one galloping behind you. But she had only wanted
to be alone, so that she might be the more alone with him.
Strange paradox ! Escaping, hiding, flying from some one, that
you may have him nearer, nearer, nearer! How suddenly
everything had happened ! Was it her dream of long ago •

ROMA 163

coining true at last — her dream of the man — the right one —
who was to meet her at the gate of life and take her up, up, up ?

Night came on, and the old Rome, the Rome of the Popes,
repossessed itself of the Eternal City. The silent streets, the
dark patches, the luminous piazzas, the three lights on the
loggia of the Vatican, the grey ghost of the great dome, the
kind stars, the sweet moon, and the church bells striking one by
one during the noiseless night.

At length she became aware of a streak of light on the floor.
It was coming through the shutters of the window. She threw
them open, and the breeze of morning came up from the orange
trees in the garden below. The day was dawning over the
sleepy city. Convent bells were ringing for matins, but all else
was still, and the silence was sweet and deep.

She turned back to her work and looked at it again. It
thrilled her now. She walked to and fro in the studio and
felt as if she were walking on the stars. She was happy, happy,
happy !

Then the city began to sound on every side. Cabs rattled,
electric trams tinkled, vendors called their wares in the streets,
and the new Rome, the Rome of the Kings, awoke.

Somebody was singing as he came upstairs. It was Bruno,
coming to his work. He looked astonished, for the lamps were
still burning, although the sunlight was streaming into the
room.

" Been working all night. Donna Roma ? "'

" Fear I have, Bruno, but I'm going to bed now."

She had an impulse to call him up to her work and say,
" Look ! I did that, for I am a great artist." But, no I Xot
yet ! Xot yet !

She had covered up the clay, and turned the key of her own
compartment, when the bell rang on the floor above. It was the
porter with the post, and Xatalina, in curl papers, met her on
the landing with the letters.

One of them was from the Mayor, thanking her for what she
had done for Charles Minghelli ; another was from her land-
lord, thanking her for his translation to Paris; a third was
from the fashionable modiste, thanking her for an invitation
from the Minister. A feeling of shame came over her as she
glanced at these letters. They brought the implication of an
immoral influence, the atmosphere of an evil life.

There was a fourth letter. It was from the Minister him-
self. She had seen it from the first, but a creepy sense of im-

164: THE ETERNAL CITY

pending trouble had made her keep it to the last. Ought she
to open it? She ought, she must!

" My Darling Child, — You cannot drop it now. It would
be weak and foolish. Besides, it is impossible. Everybody
knows what you set out to do. Think of awakening some
morning to find all Kome laughing at you! Donna Koma
caught in her own nets ! Mademoiselle Manon Lescaut in her
own toils! Cruel and unjust, but inevitable, and these red-hot
prophets in petticoats, how they would scream !

" JNTews at last, too, and success within hail. Minghelli, the
Grand Hotel, the reference in London, and the dead-and-buried
nightmare have led up to and compassed everything ! Prepare
for a great surprise — David Rossi is not David Rossi, but a
condemned man who has no right to live in Italy! Prepare,
for a still greater surprise — he has no right to live at all!

" So you are avenged ! The man humiliated and degraded
you. He insulted me also, and did his best to make me resign
my portfolio and put my private life on its defence. You set
out to undo the effects of his libel and to punish him for his
outrage. You've done it ! You have avenged yourself for both
of us ! It's all your work ! You are magnificent ! And now
let us draw the net closer ... let us hold him fast ... let us
go on as we have begun . . ."

Her sight grew dim. The letter seemed to be full of
blotches. It dropped out of her helpless fingers. She sat a long
time looking out on the sunlit city, and all the world grew dark
and chill. Then she rose, and her face was pale and rigid.

" ISTo, I will not go on!" she thought. "I will not betray
him! I will save him! He insulted me, he humiliated me, he
was my enemy, but ... I love him ! I love him ! "

PAET FOUK

DA VII) EO^jSI

David Rossi was in his bedroom writing his leader for next
morning's paper. A lamp with a dark shade burned on the
desk, and the rest of the room was in shadow. It was late, and
the house was quiet.

The Government had convoked Parliament for the day
after to-morrow. Copies of the King's speech had been sent in
confidence to the leaders of parties and to the press. As editor
of the Sunrise, David Rossi was writing the ambiguous forecast
which etiquette prescribes in such cases.

" The public will not be surprised if the King's speech
recommends . . ."

The door opened softly, and Bruno, in shirt-sleeves and
slippered feet, came on tiptoe into the room. He brought a
letter in a large violet envelope with a monogram on the front
of it, and put it down on the desk by Rossi's side. It was
from Roma.

" Dear David Rossi, — Without rhyme or reason I have
been expecting to see you here to-day, having something to say
which it is important that you should hear. May I expect
you in the morning? Knowing how busy you are, I dare not
bid you come, yet the matter is of great consequence and admits
of no delay. It is not a subject on which it is safe or proper to
write, and how to speak of it I am at a loss to decide. Have
you ever known what it is to feel that it would be the act of a
friend to say something, yet just because you are a friend you
cannot bring yourself to say it? That is my case now, compli-
cated perhaps by other and more personal considerations. But
you shall help me. Therefore come without delay. There! I

165

166 THE ETERNAL CITY

have bidden you come in spite of myself. Judge from that how
eager is my expectation. — In haste, Roma V.

"P.S. — What a day we had on the Campagna! I have
sometimes closed my eyes and taken a breath back into yester-
day as into a dream that is fading away, and found it difficult
to believe that it has all come true. Only think ! You and I
have come into each other's lives again, like two streams which,
running underground, have burst into the sunlight. Isn't it
beautiful? How lonely I must have been in spite of all my
noisy surroundings ! And how I must have wanted a big
brother! Want me for a sister, please, and I shall be so
happy.

" P.S. ISTo. 2. — I open my envelope again, to wonder if you
can ever forgive me the humiliations you have suffered for my
sake. To think that I threw you into the way of them ! And
merely to wipe out an offence that is not worth considering!
I am ashamed of myself. I am also ashamed of the people
about me. You will remember that I told you they were pitiless
and cruel. They are worse — they are heartless and without
mercy. But how bravely you bore their insults and innu-
endoes ! I almost cry to think of it, and if I were a good
Catholic I should confess and do penance. See? I do confess,
and if you want me to do penance you will come yourself and
impose it.

" P.S. No. 3. — Just had proof how miieh of a revolutionary
my poor father must have been. The moment I put his picture
into the boudoir there was anarchy on every side. All my
other pictures, as well as the creatures of my menagerie — the
stuffed tiger and the stuffed wolf and the lion's skin on the
couch — rebelled against his saintly presence. The clock with
the figure of Mephistopheles — it was a birthday present from
the Baron — was loudly and especially truculent. So to keep
the peace I've turned them all out and banished them to my
aunt's bedroom. There they have been received with tears of
pity and many maledictions on the ingratitude of their former
keeper. When you come again you will find me living in an
atmosphere that will make you imagine that one of the cells of
our convent has wandered from over the way. So you see what
you've done for me with your stories of my father and mother
and their sweet and noble poverty.

" Come soon. Don't say you cannot, and don't talk about
Parliament and such trifles. You must come ! I command it !

DAVID ROSSI 167

If you don't come I shall persuade myself there is a hated
womian in the wind, and she is keeping you away.

" Soberly, I have a great scheme to prevent mischief coming
to you, and to bring out all things well. It is my secret and I
must not whisper a word about it yet. But when I think of it,
and all that is to come of it, I say to rayself , ' Roma, my child,
you are really a wonderful woman after all, and no doubt the
history of the world would have been quite, quite different if by
great misfortune you had never been born.

" But everj-thing depends upon your coming. So, like a
good boy, come at once. E. Y."

It was the first letter that David Rossi had received from
Roma, and as he read it the air seemed to him to be filled with a
sweet girlish voice. He could see the play of her large, bright,
violet eyes. The delicate fragrance of the scented paper rose to
his nostrils, and without being conscious of what he was doing
he raised the letter to his lips.

Then he became aware that Bruno was still in the room.
The good fellow was in the shadow behind him, pushing things
about under some pretext and trying to make a noise. When
he came into the light, David Rossi could see by the expression
of his face, under its unfailing good-hmnour, that he had some-
thing to say to him.

"Want anything else to-night, sir?"

" Xot to-night, Bruno. Give this to Francesca for the boy
when he comes from the office, and go to bed. Elena has gone ? "

" Just gone, sir."

" And Joseph, of course ? "

" Fast asleep these three hours."

" Dear little man ! Don't let me keep you up, Bruno."

" Sure you don't want anything, sir ? " said Bruno with
confusion.

David Rossi rose and walked about the room with his
slow step.

" Tou have something to say to me, haven't you ? "

" Well, yes, sir — yes, I have."

"What is it?"

Bruno scratched his shock head and looked about as if for
help. His eyes fell on the letter lying open in the light on the
desk.

" It's about that, sir. I knew where it came from by the
colour and the monogram."

168 THE ETERNAL CITY

"Well?"

Bruno began to look frightened, and then in a louder voice,
that bubbled out of his mouth like water from the neck of a
bottle, he said:

" Tell you the truth, sir, people are talking about you."

" What are they saying, Bruno ? "

" Saying ? . . . I nearly knocked a man down for it less
than an hour ago. He was drunk, but truth comes out with
the wine, and what's the use if it's true ? "

"If what's true, old friend?"

" That something has come between you and the people."

" They're saying that, are they ? "

" They are. And doesn't it look like it, sir ? You'll allow
it looks like it, anyway. When you started the Kepublic, sir,
the people had hopes of you. But a month is gone and you
haven't done a thing."

David Rossi, with head down, continued to pace to and fro.

" ' Patience,' I'm saying. ' Go slow and sure,' says I.
That's all right, sir, but the Government is going fast enough.
Forty thousand men called out to keep the people quiet, and
when the bread-tax begins on the first of the month the blessed
saints know what will happen. A man might as well die of a
bullet as of the want of bread, and six feet of earth are the same
for all."

David Ilossi did not reply, and from fear alone Bruno went
on repeating himself.

" When you started the Republic, sir, the people had hopes
of you. But a month is gone, and you haven't done a thing.
Not a thing . . . and a month is gone and . . ."

" What do the people say is the reason I do nothing ? "

" The reason ? Ever heard the saying, ' Sun in the eyes,
the battle lost ? ' That's the reason, sir. Sun in the eyes — ^you
know what that means. To-morrow night we ought to hold our
first meeting of the Committee of Direction. You called it
yourself, sir, yet they're laying odds you won't be there. Where
will you be ? In the house of a bad woman ? "

" Bruno ! " cried Rossi in a stern voice, " what right have
you to talk to me like this ? "

Bruno was frightened at what he had said, but he tried to
carry it off with a look of passion.

" Right ! The right of a friend, sir, who can't stand by and
see you betrayed. Yes, betrayed, that's the word for it. Be-
trayed ! Betrayed ! It's a plot to ruin the people through the

DAVID ROSSI 169

weakness of their leader. A woman drawn across a man's trail.
The trick is as old as the ages. Never heard what we say in
Rome ? — ' The man is fire, the woman is tow ; then comes the
devil and puts them together.' "

David Rossi was standing face to face with Bruno, who was
growing hot and tiying to laugh bitterly.

" Oh, I know what I'm saying, sir. The Prime Minister is
at the bottom of everything. David Rossi never goes to Donna
Roma's house but the Baron Bonelli knows all about it. They
write to each other every day, and I've posted her letters my-
self. Her house is his house. Carriage, horses, servants,
liveries — how else could she support it? By her art, her
sculpture ? "

Bruno was still frightened to the bottom of his soul, but he
continued to talk and to laugh bitterly.

" She's deceiving you, sir. Isn't it as plain as daylight ?
You hit her hard, and old Vampire too, in your speech on the
morning of the Pope's Jubilee, and she's paying you out for
both of them."

" That's enough, Bruno."

" All Rome knows it, and everybody will be laughing at you
soon."

" You've said enough, I tell you. Go to bed."
" Oh, I know ! The heart has its reasons, but it listens to
none."

" Go to bed, I tell you ! " cried David Rossi, and then Bruno
was silent, for he knew that Rossi was angry in earnest at
last.

" Isn't it sufficient that by your tittle-tattle you caused me
to wrong the lady ? "
"/did?"
" You did."
" I did not."

" You did, and if it hadn't been for the tales you told me
before I knew her, or had even seen her, I should never have
spoken of her as I did."

" She deserved all you said of her."

" She didn't deserve one word of it, and it was your lies that
made me slander her."

Bruno's eyes flinched as if a blow had fallen on them. Then
he tried to laugh.

" Hit me again ! The skin of the ass is used to blows. Only
don't go too far with me, David Rossi."
13

170 THE ETERNAL CITY

" Then don't you go too far with your falsehoods and siis-
picion."

" Suspicion ! Holy Virgin ! Is it suspicion that she has
had you at her studio to make a Roman holiday for her friends
and cronies ? By the saints ! Suspicion ! "

And Bruno, losing himself, laughed until the room rang.

" Go on, if it becomes you."

" If what becomes me ? "

" To cat her bread and talk against her."

" That's a lie, David Kossi, and you know it. It's my own
bread I'm eating. ]\Iy labour belongs to me, and I sell it to
my employer. But my conscience belongs to God and she
cannot buy it."

David Rossi's white and angry face broke up like a snow-
flake in the sim.

" I was wrong when I said that, Bruno, and I ask your
pardon."

The fierce light in Bruno's eyes was gone in a moment.

" Do you say that, sir ? And after I've insulted
you?"

David Rossi held out his hand, and Bruno clasped it.

" I had no right to be angry with you, Bruno, but you are
wrong about Donna Roma. Believe me, dear friend, cruelly,
awfully, terribly wrong."

" You think she is a good woman."

" I know she is, and if I said otherwise, I take it back and
am ashamed."

" Beautiful ! If I could only believe in her as you do, sir.
But I've known her for two years."

" And I've known her for twenty."

Bruno's face expressed astonishment.

" Shall I tell you who she is ? She is the daughter of my
old friend in England."

" The one who died in Elba? "

" Yes."

" The good man who found you and fed you, and educated
you when you were a boy in London ? "

" That was the father of Donna Roma."

Then he was Prince Volonna, after all ? "

" Yes, and they lied to me when they told me she was dead
and buried."

Bruno was silent for a moment, and then in a choking
voice he said :

DAVID ROSSI 171

" Why didn't you strike me dead when I said she was de-
ceiving you ? Forgive me, sir ! "

" I do forgive you, Bruno, but not for myself — for her."

Bruno turned away with a dazed expression.

As he opened the door the light fell on the phonograph
which rested on the piano in the outer room, and he pointed to
it and said:

" Was it this that told you, sir ? "

Rossi bent his head.

" Was that the message on the cylinder ? "

Again Rossi bent his head.

"It was my old friend's dying message, telling me where
his daughter was, and what dangers surrounded her, and call-
ing on me to save and protect her."

Bruno returned a pace or two.

" Perhaps that was what took you . . . there ? "

" Yes."

"And to carry out your mission, you let the fools and
feather-brains insult you and laugh at you ? "

" Yes."

The dog's eyes in Brimo's bushy face began to shine and
run over.

" Forget what I said about going to Donna Roma's, sir,"

Rossi sat down and took up his pen.

" No, I cannot forget it," he said. " I ivill not forget it. I
will go there no more."

" Then you have carried out your old friend's wish, sir ? "

" God knows ! Fve done ray best. Anyhow, it's all over."

" You intend to break off the connection ? "

Rossi did not reply.

" Why should you if she is your old friend's daughter ? "

" Bruno, have you forgotten what I told you the night she
came here first, that if ever I found myself caring too much for
any one I should fly away from her ? "

" But why ... if she's a good woman ? "

" Do vou remember the visit of Charles Minghelli ? "

" Yes, sir."

" He wanted to make his public work a channel for his per-
sonal feeling, and I flung him out of the house."

"Well?"

" If I go one step farther I shall be in the same case myself."

Bruno was silent for a moment, and then he said in a thick
voice :

172 THE ETERNAL CITY

" I understand ! God help you, David Rossi. It's a lonely
road you mean to travel."

Rossi drew a long breath and made ready to write,

" I shall be present at the meeting to-morrow, Bruno.
Good-night."

" Good-night," said Bruno, and the good fellow went out
with wet eyes.

IT

The night was far gone, and the city lay still, while Rossi
replied to Roma.

" My Dear R.,— You have nothing to reproach yourself with
in regard to 2ny poor doings, or tryings-to-do. They were
necessary, and if the penalties had been worse a hundredfold I
should not chew the cud of my bargain now. Besides your
wish, I had another motive, a secret motive, and perhaps if I
were a Catholic, I should confess, too, although not with a view
to penance. Apparently, it has come out well, and now that it
seems to be all over, both your scheme and mine, now that the
wrong I did you is to some extent undone, and my own object
is in some measure achieved, I find myself face to face with a
position in which it is my duty to you as well as to myself to
bring our intercourse to an end.

" As you say, my work is waiting for me. I am in hourly
expectation of pressing public business, and my time is no
longer my own. But I should not be honest, or do justice to
my own feelings, if I allowed you to believe that this is the
only reason for our separation. There is another ground for it,
and I regret that I cannot explain myself as frankly as I could
wish to do. My correspondence through the post has never at
any time been safe from official supei-vision, messages by hand
are difficult or impossible at present because of the doubt or
distrust of our servants, and therefore, for your sake, I dare not
be explicit.

" The truth is that we cannot be friends any longer, for the
reason that I love some one in whom you are, unhappily, too
much interested, and because there are obstacles between that
person and myself which are decisive and insurmountable.
This alone puts it on me as a point of honour that you and I
should never see each other again. Each of my visits adds to
my embarrassment, to the feeling that I am doing wrong in

DAVID ROSSI 1Y3

paying them, and to the certainty that I must give them up
altogether.

" Thank you again and again for the more than pleasant
hours we have spent together. It is not your fault that I must
bury the memory of them in oblivion. This does not mean that
it is any part of the painful but unavoidable result of circum-
stances I cannot explain, that we should not write to each other
as occasion may arise. Continue to think of me as your
brother — your brother far away — to be called upon for counsel
in your hour of need and necessity. And whenever you call,
be sure I shall be there.

" Meantime, it has not been without reflection that I have
at length compelled myself to say this, or to resist the tempta-
tion to go to you at your call, even now when the first objects
of my visits have been served.

" What you say of an important matter suggests that some-
thing has come to your knowledge which concerns myself and
the authorities; but when a man has spent all his life on the
edge of a precipice, the most urgent perils are of little moment,
and I beg of you not to be alarmed for my sake. Whatever it
is, it is only a part of the atmosphere of danger I have always
lived in — the glacier I have always walked upon — and ' if it is
not now, it is to come; if it is not to come, it will be now — the
readiness is all.' Good-bye! Heaven be over you! — Yours,
dear E , D."

Ill

During some hours of next day the sitting-room of David'
Rossi's apartment was in wild disorder. The old Garibaldian
and his deaf wife were pushing the furniture into passages, and
Elena and little Joseph were bringing chairs from the bedroom
and kitchen. When they had finished, there was a table at one
end, and a line of mixed chairs under the portraits that hung
on the walls. The sitting-room was now ready for the meeting
of the Committee of Direction.

They came at eight o'clock, thirty men of many nationali-
ties. Strange figures, and as various as strange. Some well-
dressed, some ill-dressed, some that looked like journalists, pro-
fessors, advocates, and members of Parliament, and others that
looked like tailors and locksmiths.

Bruno received them in his shirt-sleeves, smoking a Tus-
can cigar, conscious of a certain austerity of atmosphere

174 THE ETERNAL CITY

among them, but laughing and joking and trying to take things
lightly.

" Good-evening, sir ! Cold to-night, isn't it ? The Honour-
able will be here presently. Just received the King's speech,
and polishing it off for the paper ! Working like wildfire, I can
tell you. That's all right, you know. Who doesn't burn him-
self can't expect to light others. . . . Helloa ! Come in, sonny !
Where did the cloak come from? Fire at a monastery some-
where ! Take care ! The habit doesn't make the monk, you
know. Now, the Honourable never feels the cold. He is in
there without a fire, like a monk in a cell. Well, the general
must do something or the soldier wants to know why."

It was a vain effort. The company came in silently, almost
moodily, looking at each other and at the portraits with a vague
and listless stare. For some minutes they stood in the middle
of the floor and there was some suppressed whispering. When
some one sneezed there was silence in a moment. Clearly the
air was full of trouble.

Bruno's loud laugh had ceased to rock through the room, he
had put out his cigar, pulled on his cloak, and was beginning to
perspire on his forehead, when the door of the bedroom opened
and David Rossi came out.

The Deputy looked calm and self-confident, and walking
into the midst of the men with a deliberate stride, shook hands
with all of them. They responded coldly, in some cases
haughtily, and looked sour and dissatisfied. One or two of them
bit their lips at him with undisguised severity, and others tried
to avoid his gaze. He took his seat at the head of the table
and called on them to take their places.

The first business was the reading of the report of the pro-
ceedings since the previous meeting. The secretary was Luigi
Conti, the man who had read the proclamation on the day of
the Pope's Jubilee. He was a short, stiff-set man, with a chol-
eric face, a thick neck, and a shrill voice. His minutes were
few and brief. The " Creed and Charter " as drawn up by the
President had been adopted by the Committee of Direction,
and copies had been sent out broadcast. The response from all
over Europe had been great, and the subscriptions had gone up
tenfold.

" That's all there is to report," said Luigi, closing his book
with a noisy clasp. " And now," he said in a tone of antago-
nism, " the Committee is wai+in<r for information and direc-
tion. The President is the official head of our democracy, and

DAVID ROSSI 175

we look to him for guidance. Ou the day we started our asso-
ciation we were told that the Republic of Man was to be a
reality, not a dream, watching parliaments, discussing meas-
ures, taking up the defence of innocent prisoners, demanding
justice for the oppressed, and legislation for the weak and
downtrodden. That was a month ago, and meanwhile we
have done nothing. Perhaps the President will tell us
why."

The secretaiy wagged his head over his thick neck, and
sat down amid murmurs of approval. David Rossi rose in
silence.

" Gentlemen," he said, " before we go any further it seems
necessary to clear the ground. The report says that our Creed
and Charter has had a response all over Europe, and the sub-
scriptions to our international association have gone up ten-
fold. Let us be sure that no part of this result has been due to
a misconception of our motives. I should not feel myself to be
an honest man if I used any one's name or any one's money
while there is the least possibility of error. So I have written
something that there may be no uncertaintj-, and I shall print
it that there may be no mistake."

With that, he took out his oblong note-book, and, amidst a
watchful silence, began to read.

" What our Creed and Charter does not imply.

" It does not imply that the whole structure of existing
society is wrong and wicked.

" It does not imply that by violence of any kind we must
abolish kings, armies, national barriers, individual ownership
in land and individual control of wealth.

" It does not imply that we should reduce the world to a
condition in which it would be without towns, books, news-
papers, universities, armies, and governments.

" It does not imply that we may remedy moral evils by
carrying civilisation back to barbarism.

" It does not imply that the whole life of the world has been
wrong and false for six thousand yeai-s.

" It does not imply that during all this time there has been
no God governing the world to good ends."

The watchful silence was broken by some murmurs of dis-
sent, and Rossi raised his head from his note-book.

" It was necessary to say so much for the benefit of our
friends," he said, " seeing that some of them seem to have
supposed that we intended to create a new heaven and a new

176 THE ETERNAL CITY

earth. And now let us say something for the benefit of our
enemies."

With that he turned to the note-book again, and the silence
became icy.

" What our Charter does imply.

" It does imply that there is a God who rules the world in
justice.

" That natural law is unceasingly bringing order out of
chaos, harmony out of discord, unity out of division, and
peace out of strife.

" That everything that has befallen the world has been made
to contribute to its ultimate good.

" That in due course, under the operation of natural law,
many of the remaining evils will be wiped out.

" That national barriei*s will be broken down.

" That Avar will become impracticable.

" That individual ownership of the soil of the earth will
become impossible.

" That individual control of capital will become unprofit-
able.

" That arrogated authority will end.

" That kings will cease to exist.

" That men will live like brothers without distinction of
race or nationality.

" That all men will have daily bread.

" And that this will come to pass in the near or the dis-
tant future in obedience to natural law, because it is God's
will, God's justice; because God is good, because God is
love."

Again the silence was broken by murmurs of dissent, and
once more Rossi raised his head.

" It was necessary to say so much for the benefit of our
enemies, gentlemen," he said, " that they may see that it is not
revolution but evolution we look to as a means by which all
things are to work out well. And if they say that then our
association is only a dream, an idea, we will show them that it
has its practical side as well."

So saying, he turned to his note-book and read a third time.

" How can we help on the principles of our Creed and
Charter?

" By praying the Lord's Prayer.

" By protesting when its principles are violated.

" By protesting against all war.

DAVID ROSSI 177

" By protesting in whatsoever way is possible against being
compelled to take up arms as a soldier.

"By protesting against oaths of allegiance to kings and
princes.

"By protesting against all laws which give individual
ownership in the land which belongs to all.

"And by suffering for such protests when called upon to
do so."

The murmurs of dissent were now louder than before, but
Rossi continued to ignore them.

" That is the meaning of our Creed and Charter, gentle-
men," he said, in a calm but firm voice, " and it was necessary
to say so, in order that friends and enemies alike may know that
it is a democracy we aim at, not a demonarchy — an arcadia, if
you will, but not an anarchy. And if they ask us when our
Republic of Man is to come to practical results, we say when
the world is ready for it, until first here and then there, as this
or that country is ripe for it, it will govern the powers that
govern the world."

At this there were shouts of " Oh " and some derisive
laughter, but Rossi went on with imperturbable serenity.

" In that grand result, gentlemen," he said, " Rome has a
place assigned to her. She is the Eternal City. Her immor-
tality is a mystery. Other cities decay and die down when their
work is done. Rome alone remains through all ages and civili-
sations. Once she was the capital of a Pagan Republic. The
Republic fell, and she became the capital of an Empire. The
Empire fell, and she became the capital of Christendom. Xow
she is the capital of Italy, a passing phase. Her destiny is to
be the capital of the world's great congress — the court of the
Republic of Man."

David Rossi had hardly sat down, when half a dozen of the
Committee rose to their feet.

" Luigi has the word," said Rossi, and with a white and
twitching face the secretary began to speak.

" We know now why we have done nothing during the last
month," he said. " It is because, according to the view of our
President, there is nothing to do. Since our last meeting he
has whittled away our object until it has no practical force and
value. Then we were told that when a government is destruc-
tive of the natural rights of men it is man's duty to destroy
it. Now we are t(fld that natural law does everything. If that is
so, what are we here for? What is the use of our association?

1Y8 THE ETERNAL CITY

Why do we grumble at the bread-tax? And what is the good
of holding the meeting in the Coliseum? But, if it isn't so,
why is our President cutting our legs from under us, and whit-
tling our objects away?"

" Why ? " said another speaker. " Isn't it clear enough
why ? Because he is trying to run with the hare and hunt with
the hounds. Because he is trying to make the interests of the
people agree with the interests of their devourers. Time was
when nobody saw so clearly the corruptions of government and
the iniquities of our social state. But society has got hold of
him, new friends have intervened, he has sold his inheritance
for a mess of pottage, and great houses and great people, and
theatres and fox-hunts, and liveries of scarlet and gold have
bought him body and soul."

" Let us be calm," said a third speaker — his own voice
quivered and broke. Ilis name was Malatesta, a member of
Parliament, and a follower of David Rossi on the Left. " What
have we lost by this month in which we have done nothing?
The King's speech to-morrow will suggest a bill for the control
of the press, the right of association, and the right of public
meeting. After the great response to our Creed and Charter
we might have expected as much, and in a month we might
have been prepared for it. We are not prepared, and what is
the consequence? The country is in the hands of the Govern-
ment, and, thanks to the procrastination of our President, the
Prime Minister may do as he pleases."

" Procrastination ! " said a shrill voice. It was Luigi again.
His choleric face was white with passion. " Why shouldn't we
speak plainly ? I tell you what it is — the opportune moment is
being lost because our leader is afraid to act. And why is he
afraid to act? Because he is an honest man, and will not use
any one's name or any one's money while there is any doubt
about his object ? Bah ! Shall I tell you why ? Because he is
in the hands of a woman ! And who is this woman? The very
woman ho hold up to scorn a month ago as the acid that was
corrupting the public powers — the mistress of the Prime Min-
ister ! Ah ! the truth is out at last, is it ? Very well ; take it,
put it in your pipe and smoke it ! "

The contagion of passion had infected everybody, and by
this time the room was in a tumult. Men were shuffling to
their feet. Bruno, who had been standing by the door, was
getting round to the side of the table. Lui^ was lashing up
his anger with continued protests.

DAVID ROSSI 179

" Oh, he can't frighten me ! I've told him the truth, and
he knows it."

David Rossi rose at last. He was the only man in the
room who had control of himself.

" Brothers," he said in measured accents, " when a man has
undertaken a work for humanity, he must be prepared to sink
his private quarrels, and I sink this insult to myself."

" Thought as much," said Luigi, looking around and laugh-
ing a shrill laugh of contempt.

" But," said Rossi in the same measured accents, " I cannot
allow this insult to a good and pure woman."

Again Luigi laughed, and some of the others joined him.

" I say," said Rossi in a firm voice, " I cannot allow this
insult to a good and pure woman to go unchallenged, and
the man who made it must be told that he is a common slan-
derer."

"Liar!" cried Luigi, and then something unexpected hap-
pened.

Bruno, after an inarticulate exclamation, w^as seen to move
from the side of the table, and before any one knew what had
happened, Luigi was in his arms, his legs were kicking in the
air, and at the next moment his little fat body had fallen on the
floor with a thud.

Then there was a general commotion, and in the midst of it
David Rossi's voice, thick with anger, ordered Bruno out of the
room.

Bruno rolled out with his shaggj- head down and his hands
in his trouser pockets like a schoolboy who has been whipped,
while Rossi, white as a sheet, his breast heaving and his breath
coming quick, pushed through to where Luigi lay and picked
him up.

" I'm ashamed," he said. " I wouldn't have had it for
worlds. He shall be punished."

" Leave him alone, sir," said Luigi, pocketing a knife which
he had drawn in his rage. " It was my own fault. I ask your
pardon."

He was a different man in a moment, and some of the others
came up to Rossi in silence and offered him their hands.

"Let us adjourn and meet again when we are more our-
selves," said Rossi. " We should be fine leaders of a new age
of brotherhood and peace if we began by a vulgar brawl. Go
home, and God bless you ! "

The men trooped out without a word more and Rossi turned

180 THE ETERNAL CITY

into his bedroom. After a few moments a timid tap came to
the door.

"Who's there?" he cried.

It was Elena with a letter.

" What's to do with Bruno ? " she said. " He has gone to
bed, and I can't get a word out of him."

" He did wrong and I was compelled to reprove him."

" Poor Bruno ! He would lay down his life for you, sir,
but he is like a dog — he'll bark at a king, and when you speak
back he is broken-hearted."

" Tell him I'm sorry and it's all over," said Rossi.

He took up the dagger paper-knife to open the letter.

Elena had scarcely left the room when her mother entered
with a tray on which there was a dish of smoking spighetti.

" You've eaten no dinner to-day, my son, and I've brought
you this for your supper. Come, now, put your books and
letters out of your head and get something on your stomach.
Do you think that books can feed you? People say they can,
but it's all nonsense. Take a book on an empty inside and
after you've held it up for tv»'o hours tell me if you have eaten
enough. Books are not things for a Christian. Put them
tiway, my son. . . . Xot hungry, you say ? Tell you what it
is, you want a wife to manage you. If I was only a bit younger,
I would marry you myself, and bring you to your senses. Come,
now, son, for charity's sake, some of these good spighetti. . . .
Thats' right! Buona sera!"

IV

The letter was from Roma.

" My dear D., — Your letter has thrown me into the wild-
est state of excitement and confusion. I have done no work
all day long, and when Black has leapt upon me and cried,
' Come out for a walk, you dear, dear dunce,' I have hardly
known whether he barked or talked.

" I am sorry our charming intercourse is to be interrupted,
but you can't mean that it is to be broken off altogether. You
can't, you cant, or my eyes would be red with crying, instead of
dancing with delight.

" Yet why they should dance I don't really know, seeing
you are so indefinite, and T have no right to understand any-

DAVID ROSSI 181

thing. If you cannot write by post, or even send messages by
hand, if my man F. is your enemy, and your housemate B. is
mine, isn't that precisely the best reason why you should come
and talk matters over^ Come at once. I bid you come! In a
matter of such inconceivable importance, surely a sister has a
right to command.

" In that character, I suppose, I ought to be glad of the
news you give me. Well, I am glad ! But being a daughter of
Eve, I have a right to be curious. I want to ask questions.
You say I know the lady, and am, unhappily, too deeply
interested in her — who is she? Does she know of your love
for her ? Is she beautiful ? Is she charming ? Give me one
initial of her name — only one — and I will be good. I am so
much in the dark, and I cannot commit myself until I know
more.

" You speak of obstacles, and say they are decisive and
insurmountable. That's terrible, but perhaps you are only
thinking of what the poets call the ' cruel madness ' of love, as
if its madness and cruelty were sufficient reason for flying away
from it. Or perhaps the obstacles are those of circumstances;
but in that case, if the woman is the right one, she will be
willing to wait for such difficulties to be got over, or even to
find her happiness in sharing them. Or perhaps — fearful
thought — there are two women in question, and while love draws
one way, duty draws another. In that event, I beg of you to *
weigh well what you are doing. Duty is a terrible tyrant, and
has wrecked more lives than love itself.

" See how I plead for my unknown sister ! Which is sweet
of me, considering that you don't tell me who she is, but leave
me to find out if she is likely to suit me. But why not let me
help you? Come at once and talk things over.

" Yet how vain I am ! Even while I proffer assistance with
so loud a voice, I am smitten cold with the fear of an impedi-
ment which you know a thousand times better than I do how to
measure and to meet. Perhaps the woman you speak of is
unworthy of your friendship and love. I can understand that
to be an insurmountable obstacle. You stand so high, and have
to think about your work, your aims, your people. And per-
haps it is only a dream and a delusion, a mirage of the heart,
that love lifts a woman up to the level of the man who loves
her.

" Then there may be some fault — some grave fault. I can
understand that too. We do not love because we should, but

182 THE ETERNAL CITY

because we must, and there is nothing so cruel as the inequality
of man and woman in the way the world regards their con-
duct. But I am like a bat in the dark, flying at gleams of light
from closely-curtained M'indows. Will you not confide in me?
Do! Do! Do!

" Besides, I have the other matter to talk about. You re-
member telling me how you kicked out the man M ? He

turned spy as the consequence, and has been sent to England.
You ought to know that he has been making inquiries about
you, and appears to have found out various particulars. Any
day may bring urgent news of him, and if you will not come to
me I may have to go to you in spite of every protest.

" To-morrow is the day for your opening of Parliament and
I have a ticket for the Court tribune, so you may expect to see
me floating somewhere above you in an atmosphere of lace and
perfume. Good-night ! — Your poor bewildered sister,

" Roma."

V

Next morning David Eossi put on evening-dress, in obedi-
ence to the etiquette of the opening day of Parliament. Before
going to the ceremony he answered Roma's letter of the night
before.

" Dear R., — If anything could add to the bitterness of my
regret at ending an intercourse which has brought me the hap-
piest moments of my life, it would be the tone of your sweet
and charming letter. You ask me if the woman I love is
beautiful. She is more than beautiful, she is lovely. Her soul
shines in her face, and it is pure and true and noble.

" You ask me if she knows that I love her. I have never
dared to disclose the secret of my heart to her, and if I could
have believed that she had ever so much as guessed at it, I
should have found some consolation in a feeling which is too
deep for the humiliations of pride. You ask me if she is
worthy of my friendship and love. She is worthy of the love
and friendship of a better man than I am or can ever hope to be.

" Yet even if she were not so, even if there were, as you say,
a fault in her, who am I that I should judge her harshly ? I am
not one of those who think that a woman is fallen because cir-
cumstances and evil men have conspired against her. I reject
the monstrous theory that while a man may redeem the past, a

DAVID ROSSI 183

woman never can. I abhor the judgment of the world by which
a woman may be punished because she is trying to be pure, and
dragged down because she is rising from the dirt. And if she
had sinned as I have sinned, and suifered as I have suffered, I
would pray for strength enough to say, ' Because I love her
we are one, and we stand or fall together.'

" But she is sweet, and pure, and true, and brave, and noble-
hearted, and there is no fault in her, or she would not be the
daughter of her father, who was the noblest man I ever knew or
ever expect to know. Xo, the root of the separation is in my-
self, in myself only, in my circvmistances and the personal situa-
tion I find myself in.

" And yet it is difficult for me to state the obstacle which
divides us, or to say more about it than that it is permanent
and insurmountable. I should deceive myself if I tried to be-
lieve that time would remove or lessen it, and I have contended
in vain with feelings which have tempted me to hold on at any
price to the only joy and happiness of my life.

" To go to her and open my heai-t is impossible, for personal
intercourse is precisely the peril I am trying to avoid. How
weak I am in her company! Even when her dress touches me
at passing, I am thrilled with an emotion I cannot master;
and when she lifts her large bright eyes to mine, I am the slave
of a passion which conquers all my will.

" No, it is not lightly and without cause that I have taken
a step which sacrifices love to duty. I love her, with all my
heart and soul and strength I love her, and that is why she and
I, for her sake more than mine, should never meet again.

" I note what you say about the man M , but you must

forgive me if I cannot be much concerned about it. There is
nobody in London who knows me in the character I now bear,
and can link it to the one you are thinking of. Good-bye,
again ! God be with you and keep you always ! D."

Having written this letter, David Eossi sealed it carefully
and posted it with his own hand on his way to the opening of
Parliament.

Yl

The day was fine, and the city was bright with many flags in
honour of the King. His visit was to the Hall of the Deputies,
as the larger and more convenient of the two legislative cham-

184 THE ETERNAL CITY

bers. . All the streets leading- to it from the royal palace were
lined with people. The square in front of the Parliament
House was kept clear by a cordon of Carabineers, but the open
windows of the hotels and houses round about were filled with
faces.

A military band was drawn up by the portico, ready to re-
ceive the signal as the King approached, and royal guards in
glistening helmets stood waiting at the door. A way was kept
for carriages to draw up and discharge their occupants, and
reporters with note-books in hand were jotting down the names
of distinguished persons as they arrived. Deputies on foot
were sometimes recognised by the public in the outer square
and streets, and greeted with slight cheering.

Coming from the direction opposite to the palace, David
Rossi had encountered no crowds until he reached the piazza.
Then he entered* the house unobserved by the little private door
for dej)uties in the side street. The chamber was already
thronged, and as full of movement as a hive of bees. Ladies in
light dresses, soldiers in uniform, diplomatists wearing decora-
tions, senators and deputies in white cravats and gloves, were
moving to their places and saluting each other with bows and
smiles.

. It was a semicircular chamber with formal rows of stalls
round its curved side, upholstered in red velvet. On its straight
side there was a broad platform, on which stood a large
gilded arm-chair under a baldacchino, also of red velvet, with
the cross of the reigning House embroidered on it in gold. A
gallery for reporters and for the undistinguished public ran
round the upper part of the walls, and the roof was a dome
of glass.

David Rossi slipped into the place he usually occupied
among the deputies. It was the corner seat by the door on the
left of the royal canopy, immediately facing the section which
had been apportioned to the Court tribune. He did not lift
his eyes as he entered, but he was conscious of a tall, well-
rounded yet girlish figure in a grey dress that glistened in a
ray of sunshine, with dark hair under a large black hat, and
flashing eyes that seemed to pierce into his own like a shaft
of light.

Beautiful ladies with big oriental eyes were about her, and
young deputies were using their opera-glasses upon them with
undisguised curiosity. There was much gossip, some laughter,
and a good deal of gesticulation. The atmosphere was one of

DAVID ROSSI 185

light spirits, approaching gaiety, the atmosphere of the theatre
or the balh-oom.

The clock over the reporters' gallery showed seven minutes
after the hour appointed, when the walls of the chamber shook
with the vibration of a cannon-shot. It was a gun fired at the
Castle of St. Angelo to announce the King's arrival. At the
same moment there came the muffled strains of the royal hymn
played by the band in the piazza. The little gales of gossip
died down in an instant, and in dead silence the assembly rose
to its feet.

A minute afterwards the King entered amid a fanfare of
trumpets, the shouts of many voices, and the clapping of hands.
He was a young man, in the uniform of a general, with a face
that was drawn into deep lines under the eyes by ill-health and
anxiety. Two soldiers, carrying their brass helmets with wav-
ing plumes, walked by his side, and a line of his Ministers fol-
lowed. His queen, a tall and beautiful girl, came behind, sur-
rounded by many ladies.

The King took his seat under the baldacchino, with his
Ministers on his left. The Queen sat on his right hand, with
her ladies beside her. They bowed to the plaudits of the assem-
bly, and the drawn face of the young King wore a painful
smile.

The Baron Bonelli, in court dress and decorations, stood at
the King's elbow, calm, dignified, self-possessed — the one strong
face and figure in the group tinder the canopy. After the
cheering and the shouting had subsided he requested the assem-
bly, at the command of His Majesty, to resume their seats.
Then he handed a paper to the King.

It was the King's' speech to his Parliament, and he read it
nervously in a voice that had not learned to control itself. But
the speech was sufficiently emphatic, and its words were gran-
diose and even florid.

It consisted of four clauses. In the first clause the King
thanked God that his country was on terms of amity with all
foreign countries, and invoked God's help in the preservation
of peace. The second clause was about the increase of the
army.

" The army," said the King, " is very dear to me, as it has
always been dear to my family. My illustrious grandfather,
who granted freedom to the kingdom, was a soldier; my
honoured father was a soldier, and it is my pride that I am
myself a soldier also. The army was the foundation of our
13

186 THE ETERNAL CITY

liberty and it is now the security of our rights. On the strength
and stability of the army rest the power of our nation abroad
and the authority of our institutions at home. It is my firm
resolve to maintain the army in the future as my illustrious
ancestors have maintained it in the past, and therefore my
Government will propose a bill which is intended to increase
still further its numbers and its efficiency."

This was received with a great outburst of applause and the
waving of many handkerchiefs. It was observed that some of
the ladies shed tears.

The third clause was about the growth and spread of an-
archism.

" My house," said the King, " gave liberty to the nation,
and now it is my duty and my hope to give security and
strength. It is known to Parliament that certain subversive
elements, not in Italy alone, but throughout Europe, throughout
the world, have been using the most devilish machinations for
the destruction of all order, human and divine. Cold calculat-
ing criminals have pei"petrated crimes against the most inno-
cent and the most highly placed, which have sent a thrill of
horror into all humane hearts. My Government asks for an
absolute power over such criminals, and if we are to bring
security to the State, we must reinvigorate the authority to
which society trusts the high mandate of protecting and gov-
erning."

A still greater outburst of cheering interrupted the young
King, who raised his head amid the shouts, the clapping of
hands, and the fluttering of handkerchiefs, and smiled his
painful smile.

" More than that," continued the King, " I have to deplore
the spread of associations, sodalities, and clubs, which, by an
erroneous conception of liberty, are disseminating the germs of
revolt against the State. Under the most noble propositions
about the moral and economical redemption of the people, is
hidden a propaganda for the conquest of the public powers.

" Leaders, whose sole motive is blind envy of a social state
superior to their own, are diffusing hate between the classes
by inculcating doctrines that cut at the root of public order
and threaten the existence of the dynasty. Associations, which
have not even asked the permission of the authorities, are hid-
ing under the cloak of religion and texts of Scripture their
true character, which is political and subversive.

" My aim is to gain the affection of my people, and to

DAVID ROSSI 187

interest them in the cause of order and public security, and
therefore my Government will present an urgent bill, which is
intended to stop the flowering of these parasitic organisations,
by revising these laws of the press and of public meeting, in
whose defects agitators find opportunity for their attacks on
the doctrines of the State."

A prolonged outbui"st of applause followed this passage,
mingled with a tvmiult of tongues, which went on after the
King had begun to read again, rendering his last clause — an
invocation of God's blessing on the deliberations of Parliament
— almost inaudible.

The end of the speech was a signal for further cheering,
and when the King left the hall, bowing as nervously as before,
and smiling his painful smile, the shouts of " Long live the
King," the clapping of hands, and the waving of handkerchiefs
followed him to the street. The entire ceremony had occupied
twelve minutes.

Then the clamour of voices drowned the sound of the royal
hymn outside. Deputies were climbing about to join their
friends among the ladies, whose light laughter was to be heard
on every side.

David Rossi rose to go. Without lifting his head, he had
been conscious that during the latter part of the King's speech
many eyes were fiLxed upon him. Playing with his watch
chain, he had struggled to look calm and impassive. But his
heart was sick, and he wished to get away quickly.

A partition, shielding the door of the corridor, stood near
to his seat, and he was trying to get round it. He heard his
name in the air around him, mingled with significant trills and
unmistakable accents. All at once he was conscious of a per-
fume he knew, and of a girlish figure facing him.

" Good-day, Honourable," said a voice that thrilled him like
the strings of a harp drawn tight.

He lifted his head and answered. It was Roma. Her face
was lighted up with a fire he had never seen before. Only
one glance he dared to take, but he could see that at the next
instant those flashing eyes would burst into tears.

The tide was passing out by the front doors where the car-
riages and the reporters waited, but Rossi stepped round to
the back. No one was going that way, except two or three old
men of his own party who were grumbling their way down the
stairs, and one or two young Deputies who were talking of
staking money in the lottery on the number of the clauses of

188 THE ETERNAL CITY

the King's speech, the number of minutes he had been late in
arriving, and the number of the day of the month — 4, 7, and 25.

David Rossi was on the way to the office of his newspaper,
and dipping into the Corso from a lane that crossed it, he came
upon the King's carriage returning to the Quirinal. It was
entirely surrounded by soldiers, the military commander of
Rome on the right, the commander of the Carabineers on the
left, and the Cuirassiers, riding two deep, before and behind,
so that the King and Queen were scarcely visible to the cheer-
ing crowd. Last in the royal procession came an ordinary cab
containing two detectives in plain clothes.

To David Rossi it was a painful sight. Miserable and
doomed, whatever its flourishes, was the institution that had to
be maintained by such a retinue. A throne broad-based on the
love of the people might be strong and right, but a throne that
had to be protected from their hate, or even from the dagger
of the assassin, was weak and wrong. Not to be king of all the
kingdoms of the earth should a true man live an abject life
such as that procession gave hint of. The young King, who
had just spoken as if he were a god, was being taken home as if
he were a prisoner.

The office of the Sunrise was in a narrow lane out of the
Corso. It was a dingy building of three floors, with the ma-
chine-rooms on the ground-level, the composing-rooms at the
top, and the editorial rooms between. David Rossi's office was
a large apartment, with three desks', that were intended for the
editor and his day and night assistants.

His day assistant received him with many bows and compli-
ments. He was a small man with an insincere face.

Rossi drank a cup of coffee and settled to his work. It was
an article on the day's doings, more fearless and outspoken than
he had ever published before. Such a day as they had just
gone through, with the flying of flags and the playing of royal
hymns, was not really a day of joy and rejoicing, but of degra-
dation and shame. If the people had known what they were
doing, they would have hung their flags with crape and played
funeral marches.

The young King, whose speech had been made for him by a
Minister who despised the people, and touched up by some man
of letters who was only thinking of his flowers of rhetoric— the
King, who was supposed to hold his sceptre by the will of the
nation — had done his utmost to annul every authority of Par-
liament and to suppress the rights which were the last asylum

DAVID ROSSI 189

of the liberties of the country. The new regulations which had
been proposed represented the death of government by the
people, and the birth of government by the police constable, as
standing for the Minister and the throne.

" Xo wonder the King is a soldier," he wrote. " All kings
are soldiers. The uniform of the soldier is the badge of the
positions they fill and the rights they arrogate. Who says King
says soldier, army, national barriers, the frontier, the sentinel,
the custom-house officer, everything that divides man from
man. To divide man from man is necessary to the King in
order that he may reign and rule.

" And no wonder kings surround themselves with armies.
Armies are the engines of arrogated power intended to separate
nation from nation and to keep down the rights of the dispos-
sessed. They are the great devourers of the world, the Jugger-
nauts of empires, and can only end by trampling to death the
powers that made them."

It was the old idea of government that the King was the
law, the authority, the State. To revert to that theory, whether
in the name of king or public security, was to turn back the
clock that marks the progress of the world. Christianity came
to wipe out such ideas of government — to show that the law
was the State, that the State was the expression of the con-
science of the people, and the conscience of the people the ex-
pression of the divine. No man could claim to represent that
conscience. In no man was it right to do so ; in no man was
it even sane and logical, except, perhaps, the Pope of Rome
himself.

" Such a scene as we have witnessed to-day," he concluded,
" like all such scenes throughout the world, whether in Ger-
many, Russia, and England, or in China, Persia, and the dark-
est regions of Africa, is but proof of the melancholy fact that
while man, as the individual, has been nineteen hundred years
converted to Christianity, man, as the nation, remains to this
day, for the most part utterly Pagan."

The assistant editor, who had glanced over the pages of
manuscript as Rossi threw them aside, looked up at last and
said:

" Are you sure, sir, that you wish to print this article? "
" Quite sure."

The man made a shrug of his shoulders, and took the copy
upstairs.

The short day had closed in when Rossi was returning home.

190 THE ETERNAL CITY

Screamers in the streets were crying early editions of the even-
ing papers, and the cafes in the Corso were full of officers and
civilians, sipping vermouth and reading glowing accounts of
the King's enthusiastic reception. Pitiful ! Most pitiful ! And
the man who dared to tell the truth must be prepared for any
consequences.

David Rossi told himself that he was prepared. Henceforth
he would devote himself to the people, without a thought of
what might happen. Nothing should come between him and
his work for humanity — nothing whatever — not even . . . but,
no, he could not think of it !

He was turning into the Piazza Navona, when a tall young
man, of soldierly bearing, stepped up beside him, and spoke in
a low tone.

"The Honourable Mr. Eossi, I think?"

" Yes."

" My name is De Raymond. I belong to the Pope's Guard.
I think His Holiness may have something to say to you."

"Does he know that I am not a good Catholic?"

" He knows you are not a Protestant. But it is something
social, something political, something that affects the position
you are placed in at present. And, of course. His Holiness
would not ask you to meet himself."

"Whom, then?"

" A representative I would have the honour to take you to."

"When?"

" To-morrow morning at eleven, if that will do."

" Very well."

" I will be waiting on this spot. Meantime our intei'view
is quite confidential? "

" Quite."

VII

Two letters were awaiting David Rossi in his room.

One was a circular from the President of the Chamber of
Deputies summoning Parliament for the day after to-morrow
to elect officials and reply to the speech of the King.

The other was from Roma, and the address was in a large,
hurried hand. David Rossi broke the seal with nervous fingers.

" My Dear Friend, — I know ! I know ! I know now what the
obstacle is. B. gave me the hint of it on one of the days of last
week, when I was so anxious to see you and you did not come.

DAVID ROSSI 191

It is your unflinching devotion to your mission and to your
public duties. You are one of those who think that when a
man has dedicated his life to work for the world, he should
give up everything else — father, mother, wife, child — and live
like a priest, who puts away home, and love, and kindred, that
others may have them more abundantly. I can understand
that, and see a sort of nobility in it too, especially in days when
the career of a statesman is only a path to vainglory of every
kind. It is great, it is glorious, it thrills me to think of it.

" But I am losing faith in my unknown sister that is to be,
in spite of all mj^ pleading. You say she is beautiful — that's
well enough, but it comes by nature. You say she is sweet, and
true, and charming — and I am willing to take it all on trust.
But when you say she is noble-hearted, I respectfully refuse
to believe it. If she were that, you would be sure that she
would know that friendship is the surest part of love, and to
be the friend of a great man is to be a help to him, and not
an impediment.

" My gracious ! What does she think you are? A cavaliere
servente to dance attendance on her ladyship day and night ? I
shall certainly despise her if that is her hope and expectation.
Xo, no ! Give me the woman who wants her husband to be a
man, with a man's work to do, a man's burdens to bear, and a
man's triumphs to win, whatsoever they are and wheresoever
they take him, down to the depths of disappointment or up to
the glory of the cross.

" Yet perhaps I am too hard on my unknown sister that is
to be or ought to be, and it is only your own distrust that
wrongs her. If she is the daughter of one brave man and really
loves another, she knows her place and her duty. It is to be
ready to follow her husband wherever he must go, to share his
fate whatever it may be, and to live his life, because it is now
her own.

" And since I am in the way of pleading for her again, let
me tell you how simple you arc to suppose that because you
have never disclosed your secret she may never have guessed it.
Goodness me ! To think that men who can make women love
them to madness itself can be so ignorant as not to know that
a woman can always tell if a man loves her, and even fix the
very day and hour and minute when he looked into her eyes and
loved her first.

" And if my unknown sister that ought to be knows that
you love her, be sure that she loves you in return. Have you

192 THE ETERNAL CITY

thought of that. A thousand to one she loved you before you
dreamt of loving her, and waited and watched for the return
of the dove of promise she had cast out on to the waters of
your heart. Then trust her. Take the counsel of a woman and
go to her. Remember, that if you are suffering by this separa-
tion, perhaps she is suffering too, and if she is worthy of the
love and friendship of a better man than you are, or ever hope
to be (which, without disparaging her ladyship, I respectfully
refuse to believe), let her at least have the refusal of one or
both of them.

" Good-night ! I go to the Chamber of Deputies again the
day after to-morrow, being so immersed in public matters (and
public men) that I can think of nothing else at present. Hap-
pily my bust is out of hand, and the caster (not B. this time)
is hard at work on it.

" You won't hear anything about the M doings, yet I

assure you they are a most serious matter. Unless I am
much mistaken there is an effort on foot to connect you with
my father, which is surely sufficiently alarming. M is re-
turning to Rome, and I hear rumours of an intention to bring
pressure on some one here in the hope of leading to identifica-
tion. Think of it, I beg, I pray ! — Your friend, R."

VIII

At eleven o'clock next morning the young Noble Guard was
waiting for David Rossi by the corner of the Piazza Navona.
They got into a carriage and drove along the bank of the Tiber.
The carriage drew up in the Ripetta, a busy thoroughfare, be-
fore a grey palace which Rossi recognised. It was the Jesuit
College.

A black gate, resembling the portcullis to a castle, crossed
the mouth of the portico, shutting off everything within. The
bell was answered immediately, and without a word being
spoken the two men were taken up a flight of stone stairs. A
pale and emaciated young priest stood waiting at the top. He
showed them into a room in silence, and then left them. The
room overlooked the street, but it was closely curtained and
dark, and had the dead atmosphere of a chamber whose windows
are rarely opened. A sound of men's voices singing had fol-
lowed them from the courtyard.

There were two principal pictures on the wall. One of

DAVID ROSSI 193

tliem showed a figure dressed wholly in white, the other a figure
dressed wholly in black.

" We call them the white and the black popes," whispered
the young Guard.

Under the black pope hung a text-card with the words,
" Let those who live in obedience be led and guided by their
Superior, like the corpse which may be turned and handled in
any way." On a table by the wall there was a Madonna in a
glass case. It was a beautiful face and figure — the ideal of
pure, sinless womanhood, which even in monasteries and cells
is a sustaining force to man. David Rossi looked at it with a
great tenderness, tears rose to his eyes, and the voices of the
men came floating to him from below.

The singing ceased, there was a step outside, the door
opened, and a large man in a black soutane broidered with scar-
let and wearing a scarlet skull-cap entered the room.

The young Guard kissed the episcopal ring, presented
Kossi, smiled, and went away.

" Pray sit, Mr. Rossi," said the Cardinal, and he placed a
chair for him facing the window.

Although his voice was naturally a harsh one, the tones
were soft; and despite an ungainly figure, his manner was
suave and gracious. He sat with his back to the light, and
opened the conversation with a playful hope that Mr. Rossi was
not afraid of the Jesuits. The world made them the scapegoats
of hiimanity, but they were happy enough if they bore away
its sins.

" I understand His Holiness has something to say to me,"
said Rossi.

Without replying, the Cardinal paid some graceful compli-
ments to Rossi himself. In days when politicians were for the
most part light and even corrupt persons, when the whole
power of the State was in the hands of anti-Christians, when
the baneful effects of secret societies, especially the Freema-
sons, were so keenly felt, it was something to find a statesman
with so strong a sentiment of religion. The legislative assem-
blies of Europe had need of such men.

" Perhaps these evils are permitted by our Divine Master
for the purgation of the world ; but you have proved, dear sir,
that it is not necessary that men should be irreligious in order
to be Liberal, or offend against the principles of morality that
they may love their country."

" Does the Holy Father know," said David Rossi, " that I am

194 THE ETERNAL CITY

the man who tried to stop his procession, and was flung out of
the way by his soldiers ? "

" That," said the Cardinal, with a scarcely perceptible hesi-
tancy, " that was a case in which a warm heart overcame the
dictates of a cool head. The Holy Father is the Workmen's
Pope, and there is nothing nearer to his paternal breast than
the material welfare of the lowly ones. But to have joined
hands with their advocate at such a moment would have been
to insult the reigning powers and make terms with the spirit of
rebellion."

David Rossi was about to speak, but with a smile and a
conciliatory gesture the Cardinal raised his hand and a large
sapphire set in brilliants flashed in the light.

" We have come nearer into line since then, dear sir. The
new projects of law which are directed against you are directed
against us as well ; a fresh subject of bitterness has been added
to our griefs, and Ave are both suffering from the hostility of
the Government."

Then the Cardinal spoke of the many societies connected
with the Church that would be affected by the proposed law,
the sodalities, banks, clubs, circles, and schools.

" On the first pretext of the police, it will be easy to dissolve
all these associations, which have been conducted during many
years for the good of the Church and the people. It will no
longer be possible to hold a meeting or to carry a banner or
emblem which the police chooses to regard as seditious. Indeed,
the dissolution of the clerical clubs would be a religious cam-
paign, and we are by no means sure that it is not intended to
carry war into the camp of the Vatican under the cover of
public security and the suppression of anarchism. Be that
as it may, it is clear that the same method of defence which
will be good for your associations will be good for ours
also."

" And that is — what, your Eminence? "

The Cardinal cleared his throat.

" You are aware that the Holy Father has forbidden his
faithful children to participate in the affairs of a Government
which exists by the abrogation of his rights and the spoliation
of his treasure."

Rossi bowed assent.

" But the Church does not deny itself the right to take part
in the secular affairs of Italy where to do so is hopeful of good
results to the Catholic Church, and it would not be opposed to

DAVID ROSSI 195

any honourable plans of freedom which are agreeable to moral-
ity and religion."

" You think of a Catholic party in the Assembly ? "

"Xo, Mr. Rossi. A Catholic party in the Assembly of
Italy would have to begin by abandoning the temporal claims
of the Poi)e. It is not necessary. One of the parties already
there might serve as well — your own, for example."

" You mean," said Rossi, " that the Holy Father would
liberate his people from his injunction, and tell them to vote
for me ? "

" Why not ? Politically our objects at this moment are the
same. You could not protect your own associations without
protecting ours. But you are weak while we are strong. The
clerical clubs are all over Italy. They keep records of the
people everywhere. We are in touch with them in Rome, and
can call them up at a given signal. With our strength behind
you it will be possible for you to tell Parliament that Ministers
do not represent the country, and challenge them to prove it.
You will overthrow the Government."

"And then?"

" You will have saved Italy from a cruel religious war, pro-
tected the rights of public meeting, and preserved your own
associations and those of the Church."

"And then?"

" Then," said the Cardinal, playing with the gold chain that
hung from his neck, " you will remember the power that helped
you to office, and think of the dolorous circumstances in which
it is placed, with its papal palace occupied by the King, its
convents and monasteries converted into barracks and police
offices, its treasury confiscated, and its Holy Head deprived of
the independence which is necessary for the free exercise of his
apostolic mission."

" In short," said Rossi, " we should, in return for your as-
sistance, heal the discord between Italy and the Holy See by
helping to restore the temporal power of the Pope ? "

Without replying, the Cardinal bent his head.

" Would anything else be expected of us ? "

" Mr. Rossi," said the Cardinal, " I have had the honour to
read some of your writings, and I rejoice in your faith in the
destinies of Rome. That the Eternal City will once more rule
the world, that a special mission is assigned to her by God, is
our own conviction also. It is especially the faith of the Holy
Father; and if by pen and tongue you can help toward the

196 THE ETERNAL CITY

founding of a great federative league of all the States of the
world, each governed by its own laws and rulers, but all subject
to Eome as their metropolis, you will inscribe your name among
the greatest benefactors of the people and the Church."

David Kossi did not reply immediately, and the Cardinal
added :

" But perhaps that is a miracle which we have no right to
look for in our day — although," he said with a subtle gleam in
his slow eyes, " an article like yours in this morning's paper on
the evils of militarism and the arrogated rights of kings cannot
but help on that sublime conception of the Holy Father of a
spiritual kingdom on earth under the sovereignty of the Vicar
of Jesus Christ himself."

There was a long pause, and then David Rossi said in a low
voice :

" I am sorry, your Eminence, but what you propose is quite
impossible. My people are weak and their rights are in peril,
but I should not feel myself an honest man if I agreed to ac-
cept your help."

" And why not? " said the Cardinal.

" Because I see no difference between the principles I op-
pose and those you ask me to support except a difference of
form, and no difference between the spectacle of the King's pro-
cession yesterday and the Pope's procession of a month ago ex-
cept a difference of clothes." -

The Cardinal made a slight contemptuous sound in his
throat, and a gold-buckled shoe and red stocking protruded
from the edge of his black cassock.

" We should be changing the King for the Pope — that's all,"
said Rossi.

" Would you not be changing a fallible and corrupt head of
government for an infallible an incorruptible one ? " asked the
Cardinal.

" Is the Pope infallible in the world of fact ? " said
Rossi.

" Pontiffs," said the Cardinal, " have no infallibility except
in faith and morals, but the spiritual and the temporal are so
closely interwoven that certain theologians think it might per-
haps be difficult to say where infallibility would end in a Pope
who directed the affairs of a state."

" That," said Rossi, " is exactly what was said of the em-
perors and kings of the pagan world. They claimed to be not
only of the spirit, but the very blood of the gods. Put the Pope

DAVID ROSSI 197

of to-day at the head of a state because he is a Pope, and his
rule must claim to be the divine rule. If it does not, it is arro-
gated, meaningless, and illogical. To be the rule of the divine,
it must be the rule of one who is not only infallible but impec-
cable and untemptable. There is only one infallible, impec-
cable and untemptable being. That is God, and to put a man in
God's place is idolatry. It was the idolatry of the pagan world
which Christianity came to wipe away. And yet the Church
asks the world to go back to that idolatry. It never will, it
never can. The world has outgrown it."

The Cardinal shifted in his chair and said in a tone of the
utmost suavity:

" Then, bad as in your opinion is the rule of the world un-
der the kings, with their militarism and corruption, you think
the temporal rule of the Popes would be no better ? "

" Much worse, your Eminence," said Rossi. " Christianity
has not been two thousand years in the world without uprooting
the monstrous fiction that the will of the king is the will
of the divine, and we dethrone an unrighteous king without
fear; but set up a ruler who claims to be infallible, whether
in the world of fact or dogma, or both, and you establish a
bulwark of superstition which would make it as awful to
rise up against an unrighteous Pope as to rise up against
God."

" You make no allowance, then, for the probability that the
Pope would be righteous, not unrighteous — that he would be
the father of all men, with no interest to serve but the well-
being of the whole human family ? "

" None whatever," said Rossi, " because the same argument
is used for every monarch, and it comes to nothing. The Pope
is a man, and a man has his own interest to serve before
any other."

" You make no allowances, too, for the life of grace which
in the Holy Father might be expected to subdue the selfish
impulses of poor human creatures," said the Cardinal.

" I do, your Eminence ; but, on the other hand, I make
allowances for the environment which, in all who hold absolute
power, tends to make an unselfish man selfish, a modest man
proud, a good man bad. The only atmosphere that surrounds
a Pope, like the only atmosphere that surounds a king, is an
atmosphere of servility and flattery. It develops the evil, not
the noble muscles of his soul. No man is better for being Pope,
and the saintly man is worse."

198 THE ETERNAL CITY

The Cardinal's chair was creaking under the movement of
his body, and a gold cross which had been fixed in his sash
swung loose from his neck.

" And if," he said, " the divine rule of the world is not to
be looked for from Popes and kings, pray where is it to come
from ? "

" From Humanity," said David Rossi,

The Cardinal held up both hands with a mock gesture which
even his courtesy could not repress.

" Why not ? " said David Ilossi. " The sentiment in Hu-
manity is the noblest and holiest thing we have in the world.
It is our only proof of God, of immortality, and of right
and wrong."

" Poor Humanity ! What of its frightful errors ? Its out-
breaks as of hell itself? " said the Cardinal.

" Nothing," said David Ilossi, " except that they began in
heaven. The very worst of them came of good impulses and
ended in good results. Humanity is the only thing divine in
this world. You can't appeal to it, as you can to King or Pope,
on the ignoble side of the heart or senses. It only answers
to the true and the everlasting."

" Poor miserable Humanity ! " said the Cardinal. " Differ-
ing no more in the tenth century and the twentieth than the
shifting pictures of the kaleidoscope — what has happened to the
world that you have become a god ?

" But I must not trouble you to prolong this interview," he
said, rising from his chair. " The Holy Father thought so well
of you that he will be sorry to hear that you are to be num-
bered among those who, by the doctrines of a false democracy,
retard the pacification of souls by the gospel."

" The gospel," said Rossi, also rising, " has had many in-
carnations, your Eminence. The first of them was when it
entered into the body of a Jew and took a Jewish colour. It
didn't rest there, thanks to St. Paul, but was next incarnated
in the body of a Roman Emperor. Unhappily, so far as the
Catholic Church goes, it has rested there, thanks to the Popes
and their Senate, the Sacred College. But the gospel has
had another and a far greater incarnation — its incarnation
into Humanity. That is what is going on in the world now.
Humanity is the Pope of the twentieth century."

The Cardinal, who had been moving towards the door, was
arrested, and stood.

" The Pope I dream of, the sublime Pontiff of the future,"

DAVID ROSSI 199

said Rossi, " will be no longer content to live in the mummy of
a Roman emperor. He will live in the body of Humanity.
He will see that the old dynastic world is dead, and a world of
the peoples is coming on, and that the Christendom of Rome
must widen out to be the Christendom of the world. He will
not look to the sovereigns and classes, which are shadows van-
ishing away, but to thfe people who are realities, and last for
ever ; he will know that the strength of the Church in all ages
and all countries is the poor, and when they kneel at his feet to
ask him to protect their bread, he will not set all his tempo-
ralities against the hunger of one starving child."

The Cardinal was moved, even against his convictions, and
being an honest raan he did not attempt to conceal it.

" I'm sorry," he said, " and the Holy Father will be sorry,
that one with so strong a sentiment of religion must hence-
forth be numbered among the enemies — the most serious
enemies — of the Church."

" My reverence to His Holiness," said Rossi in a low voice.
" Tell him if you will that a humble and unknown son looks
up to him with the deepest love and veneration. Tell him that
a fatherless man feels towards him, though so high above, as to
a father, whose hand he would go far to touch. But God gave
me a will that is free, and I cannot give it up even to the
saintliest man in all the world."

" Good-bye, my son," said the Cardinal. " I shall think of
you very often. Your faith in Humanity is beautiful, but you
are awakening a monster, and God knows what it may do to
you yet. Take care ! Take care ! "

The Cardinal saw his visitor to the black gate below, and
then went through the chill corridors with drooping head. The
traffic in the street was thick and noisy, and the sun outside
was warm and bright.

IX

On reaching home, David Rossi found his day assistant
waiting for him with a troubled face.

There was bad news from the office. The morning's edition
of the Sunrise had been confiscated by the police owing to the
article on the King's speech and procession. A proof of the
issue had been sent the night before to the office of the Procura-
tore del Re; but that morning at eleven all unsold copies had
been seized at the newsagents. The proprietors of the paper

200 THE ETERNAL CITY

were angry with their editor, and demanded to see him im-
mediately.

" Tell them I'll be at the oflB.ce at four o'clock, as usual,"
said Rossi, and he sat down to write a letter.

It was to Roma. The moment he took up the pen to write
to her, the air of the room seemed to fill with a sweet feminine
presence that banished everything else. It was like talking to
her. She was beside him. He could hear her soft replies.

" If it were possible to heighten the pain of my feelings
when I decided to sacrifice my best wishes to my sense of duty,
a letter like your last would be more than I could bear. The
obstacle you deal with is not the one which chiefly weighs with
me, but it is a very real impediment, not altogether disposed of
by the sweet and tender womanliness with which you put it
aside. In that regard what troubles me most is the hideous
inequality between what the man gives and what he gets, and
the splendid devotion with which the woman merges her life in
the life of the man she marries only quickens the sense of his
selfishness in allowing himself to accept so great a prize.

" In my own case, the selfishness, if I yielded to it, would
be greater far than anybody else could be guilty of, and of all
men who have sacrificed women's lives to their own career, I
should feel myself to be the most guilty and inexcusable. My
dear and beloved girl is nobly born, and lives in wealth and
luxury, while I am poor — poor by choice, and therefore poor for
ever, -oithout father or mother, brought up as a foundling, and
without a name that I dare call my own.

" I do not complain of this, and down to the present mo-
ment, if I have remembered it with pain, I have also thought of
it with joy. It was the badge of my calling, the sign manual
of God's will, to set me apart, being a man cut oflF from any
earthly tie, for a work for the world. For ten years I have
taken up the part to which ISTature herself assigned me. And
what is the result? I am a pauper, an outcast, one who must
be ready to go through any dangers any day for the work he
has set before himself — friendless, kinless, loveless, joyless,
and alone.

" What then ? Shall such a man ask such a woman as she
is to come into the circle of his life, to exchange her riches for
his poverty, her comfort for his suffering ? No !

" Besides, what woman could do it if I did ? Women can
be unselfish, they can be faithful, they can be true ; but — don't
ask me to say things I do not want to say — women love wealth

DAVID ROSSI 201

and luxury and ease, and shrink from pain and poverty and
the forced marches of a hunted life. And why shouldn't they ?
Heaven spare them all such sufferings as men alone should bear.

" Yet all this is still outside the greater obstacle which
stands between me and the dear girl from whom I must sepa-
rate myself now, whatever it may cost me, as an inexorable
duty. I entreat you to spare me the pain of explaining further.
Believe that for her sake my resolution, in spite of all your
sweet and charming pleading, is strong and unalterable.

" Only one thing more. If it is as you say it may be, that
she loves me, though I had no right to believe so, that will
only add to my unhappiness in thinking of the wrench that she
must suffer. But she is strong, she is brave, she is the daugh-
ter of her father, and I have faith in the natural power of
her mind, in her youth and the chances of life for one so beauti-
ful and so gifted, to remove the passing impression that may
have been made.

" Good-bye, yet again ! And God bless you ! D.

" P.S. — I am not afraid of M , and come when he may,

I shall certainly stand my ground. There is only one person in
Rome who could be used against me in the direction you in-
dicate, and I could trust her with my heart's blood."

Before two o'clock next day the Chamber of Deputies was
already full. The royal chair and baldacchino had been re-
moved and their place was occupied by the usual bench of the
President. Below the bench of the President was the table of
the Ministers, with its ten chairs, still empty. Between the
table of the Ministers and the first row of circular stalls there
was an open space, containing nothing but the desk of the
official shorthand writers.

The seats of the Deputies were mostly occupied, though a
few of the members stood in groups on the floor. In the central
gallery were two lines of journalists, some of them sketching,
others writing descriptive notes. The galleries at the sides
were filled with Senators, diplomatists, ladies, and the gen-
eral public.

When the Prime Minister took his place, cool, collected,
smiling, faultlessly dressed and wearing a flower in his button-
hole, he was greeted with some applause from the members, and
14

202 THE ETERNAL CITY

the dry rustle of fans in the ladies' tribune was distinctly
heard. The leader of the Opposition had a less marked recep-
tion, and when David Kossi glided round the partition to his
place on the extreme left, there was a momentary hush, fol-
lowed by a buzz of voices.

Then the President of the Chamber entered, with his secre-
taries about him, and took his seat in a central chair under
a bust of the young King. Ushers, wearing a linen band
of red, white, and green on their arms, followed with portfo-
lios, and with little trays containing water-bottles and glasses.
Conversation ceased, and the President rang a hand-bell
that stood by his side, and announced that the sitting was
begun.

The first important business of the day was the reply to the
speech of the King, and the President called on the member
who had been appointed to undertake this duty. A young
Deputy, a man of letters, then made his way to a bar behind
the chairs of the Ministers and read from a printed paper a
florid address to the sovereign.

The address recited the clauses and terms of the King's
speech, with expressions of approval. His Majesty's Parlia-
ment rejoiced to learn that his Government proposed to in-
crease still further the strength and efficiency of the army.
They also rejoiced that safety of life and property was to be se-
cured to the nation by measures intended to punish the crimi-
nals who threatened law and order. Most of all, they rejoiced
that the parasitic organisations which disseminated the seeds
of rebellious and anarchist doctrines were to be cut off by a
vigorous remodelling of the privileges of the press and public
meeting.

Having read his printed document, the Deputy proceeded to
move the adoption of the reply.

With the proposal of the King and the Government to in-
crease the army he would not deal. It required no recom-
mendation. The people were patriots. They loved their coun-
try, and would spend the last drop of their blood to defend it.
The only persons who were not with the King in his desire to
uphold the army were the secret foes of the nation and the
dynasty — persons who were in league with their enemies.

" That," said the speaker, " brings us to the next clause of
our reply to His Majesty's gracious speech. We know that
there exists among the associations aimed at a compact be-
tween strangely varying forces — between the forces of social-

DAVID ROSSI 203

ims, republicanism, unbelief, and anarchy, and the forces of
the Church and the Vatican.

" These natural enemies are joining hands to pull down the
nation and the monarchy. The Church, to which we gave a
guarantee of liberty in the exercise of its religious rights, is
abusing our leniency to teach doctrines of hatred against the
State. Its journals and its priests are writing and preaching
insolent abuse of the institutions of the country. The Prince
of the Church, this loud-voiced advocate of peace for the rest
of the world, never opens his lips without lamentations about
the loss of his temporal power, which can have no object and
no meaning if they are not intended to incite our people to
a fratricidal war, or provoke the Governments of Europe to
take up arms against us on his behalf."

This was received with almost universal applause, during
which the speaker mixed himself a glass of sherbet from a bowl
brought by an usher, stirred and drank it, and then continued :

" More than that, gentlemen, the Church helps every propa-
ganda inspired by hatred against the State; and it is within the
knowledge of the Government that certain persons who have
taken the oath of allegiance to the reigning sovereign as mem-
bers of this House are in close communication with the agents
and ministers of the Vatican."

At this statement there was a great commotion. Members
on the Left protested with loud shouts of " It is not true," and
in a moment the tongues and arms of the whole assembly
were in motion. The President rang his bell, and the
speaker concluded.

" Let us draw the teeth of both parties to this secret con-
spiracy, that they may never again use the forces of poverty
and discontent to disturb public order."

When the speaker sat down, his friends thronged around
him to shake hands with him and congratulate him.

Then the eyes of the house and of the audience in the gal-
lery turned to David Rossi. He had sat with folded arms and
head do-«Ti while his followers screamed their protests. But
passing a paper to the President, he now rose and said :

" I ask permission to propose an amendment to the reply to
the King's speech."

"You have the word," said the President.

David Rossi read his amendment. At the feet of His
Majesty it humbly expressed an opinion that the present was
not a time at which fresh burdens should be laid upon the

204 THE ETERNAL CITY

country for the support of the army, with any expectation
that they could be borne. Misfortune and suffering had
reached their climax. The cup of the people was full.

At this language some of the members laughed. There were
cries of " Order " and " Shame," and then the laughter was
resumed. The President rang his bell, and at length silence
was secured. David Rossi began to speak in a voice that was
firm and resolute.

" If," he said, " the statement that members of this House
are in alliance with the Pope and the Vatican is meant for me
and mine, I give it a flat denial. And, in order to have done
with this calumny once and for ever, permit me to say that
between the Papacy and the people, as represented by us, there
is not, and never can be, anything in common. In temporal
affairs, the theory of the Papacy rejects the theory of the
democracy. The theory of the democracy rejects the theory
of the Papacy. The one claims a divine right to rule in the
person of the Pope because he is Pope. The other denies
all divine right except that of the people to rule them-
selves.

" Temporal government by the Pope, whether in Rome or
throughout the world, could only be established on a basis of
the Pope's absolutism in principle if not in practice, on a basis
of the Pope's infallibility in fact as well as in dogma; while
the theory of democracy is to banish the ignis fatuus of ab-
solutism and infallibility whether in Pope or King. No, there
is no alliance between the cause of the people and the tem-
poral claims of the Papacy. There is war, bitter war. The
one belongs to the future, the other to the past, and the Papacy
as a temporal power is doomed by every law of progress. The
leaders of the people do not ally themselves with a hope
that is dead."

This was received with some applause mingled with
laughter and certain shouts flung out in a shrill hysterical
voice. The President rang his bell again, and David Rossi
continued :

" The proposal to increase the. army," he said, " in a time
of tranquillity abroad but of discord at home, is the gravest
impeachment that could be made of the Government of a
country. Under a right order of things Parliament would be
the conscience of the people, Government would be the servant
of that conscience, and rebellion would be impossible. But this
Government is the master of the country and is keeping the

DAVID ROSSI 205

people down by violence and oppression. Parliament is dead.
For God's sake let us bury it ! "

Loud shouts followed this outburst, and some of the dep-
uties rose from their seats, and crowding about the speaker
in the open space in front, yelled and screamed at him like a
pack of hounds. He stood calm, playing with his watch-chain,
while the President rang his bell and called for silence. The
interiniptions died down at last, and the speaker went on:

" If you ask me what is the reason of the discontent which
produces the crimes of anarchism, I say, first, the domination
of a Government which is absolute, and the want of liberty of
speech and meeting. In other countries the discontented are
permitted to manifest their woes, and are not pvmished unless
they commit deeds of violence ; but in Italy alone, except Rus-
sia, a man may be placed outside the law, torn from his home,
from the bedside of his nearest and dearest, and sent to domi-
cilio coatio to live or die in a silence as deep as that of the
grave. Oh, I know what I am saying. I have been in the
midst of it. I have seen a father torn from his daughter, and
the motherless child left to the mercy of his enemies."

This allusion quieted the House, and for a moment there
was a dead silence. Then through the tense air there came a
strange sound, and the President demanded silence from the
galleries, whereupon the reporters rose and made a negative
movement of the hand with two fingers upraised, pointing at
the same time to the ladies' tribune.

One of the ladies had cried out. David Rossi heard the
voice, and, when he began again, his own voice was softer and
more tremulous.

" Xext, I say that the cause of anarchism in Italy, as every-
where else, is poverty. Wait until the 1st of February, and
you shall see such an army enter Rome as never before invaded
it. I assert that within three miles of this place, at the gates
of this capital of Christendom, human beings are living lives
more abject than that of savage man.

" Housed in huts of straw, sleeping on mattresses of leaves,
clothed in rags or nearly nude, fed on maize and chestnuts and
acorns, worked eighteen hours a day, and sweated by the tyr-
anny of the overseers, to whom landlords lease their lands while
they idle their days in the salons of Rome and Paris, men and
women and children are being treated worse than slaves, and
beaten more than dogs."

At that there was a terrific uproar, shouts of " It's a lie ! "

206 THE ETERNAL CITY

and " Traitor ! " followed by a loud outbreak of jeers and
laughter. Then, for the first time, David Rossi lost control of
himself, and, turning upon the Parliament with flaming eyes
and quivering voice, he cried :

" You take these statements lightly — you that don't know
what it is to be hungry, you that have food enough to eat, and
only want sleep to digest it. But I know these things by bitter
knowledge — by experience. Don't talk to me, you who had
fathers and mothers to care for you, and comfortable homes
to live in. I had none of these. I was nursed in a poorhouse
and brought up in a hut on the Campagna. Because of the
miserable laws of your predecessors my mother drowned her-
self in the Tiber, and I knew what it was to starve. And I am
only one of many. At the very door of Rome, under a Chris-
tian Government, the poor are living lives of moral anaemia
and physical atrophy more terrible by far than those which
made the pagan poet say two thousand years ago — Paucis vivit
humanum genus — the human race exists for the benefit of
the few."

The silence was breathless while the speaker made this
personal reference, and when he sat down, after a denuncia-
tion of the militarism which was consuming the heart of the
civilised world, the House was too dazed to make any man-
ifestation.

In the dead hush that followed, the President put the
necessary questions, but the amendment fell through without
a vote being taken, and the printed reply was passed.

Then the Minister of War rose to give notice of his bill for
increased military expenditure, and proposed to hand it over
to the general committee of the budget.

The Baron Bonclli rose next as Minister of the Interior,
and gave notice of his bill for the greater security of the pub-
lic, and the remodelling of the laws of the press and of as-
sociation.

He spoke incisively and bitterly, and he was obviously ex-
cited, but he affected his usual composure.

" After the language we have heard to-day," he said, " and
the knowledge we possess of mass meetings projected, it will not
surprise the House that I treat this measure as urgent, and
propose that we consider it on the principle of the three read-
ings, taking the first of them in four days."

At that there were some cries from the Left, but the Min-
ister continued:

DAVID ROSSI 207

" It will also not surprise the House that, to prevent thf3
obstruction of members who seeni ready to sing their Miserere
without end, I will ask the House to take the readings with-
out debate."

Then in a moment the whole House was in an uproar and
members were shaking their fists in each other's faces. In
vain"the President rang his bell for silence. At length he put
on his hat and left the Chamber, and the sitting was at an end.

Out in the lobby a group of Rossi's followers were wait-
ing for him.

" What is to be done ? " they asked.

" Meet me at the office of the Sunrise to-morrow afternoon
at four," he replied, and then turned to go home.

Going out by a side street, he caught a glimpse of a car-
riage, with coachman in scarlet livery, passing through the
piazza, but he only dropped his head and went on.

XI

The last post that night brought Rossi a letter from Roma.

" My Dear, Dear Friend, — It's all up ! I'm done with her !
My unknown and invisible sister that is to be, or rather isn't to
be and oughtn't to be, is not worth thinking about any longer.
You tell me that she is good and brave, and noble-hearted, and
yet you would have me believe that she loves wealth, and ease,
and luxury, and that she could not give them up even for the
sweetest thing that ever comes into a woman's life. Out on
her! What does he think a wife is? A pet to be pampered,
a doll to be dressed up and danced on your knee? If that's
the sort of woman she is, I know what I should call her. A
name is on the tip of my tongue, and the point of my finger,
and the end of my pen, and I'm itching to have it out, but I
suppose I must not write it. Only don't talk to me any more
about the bravery of a woman like that.

" The wife I call brave is a man's friend, and if she knows
what that means, to be the friend of her husband to all the
limitless lengths of friendship, she thinks nothing about sacri-
fices between him and her, and differences of class do not exist
for either of them. Her pride died the instant love looked out
of her eyes at him, and if people taunt her with his poverty, or
his birth, she answers and says : ' It's true he is jDoor, but his

208 THE ETERNAL CITY

glory is that he was a workhouse boy who hadn't father or
mother to care for him, and now he is a great man, and I'm
proud of him, and not all the wealth of the world shall take me
away.'

" Oh, how I wish that heaven would inspire me to speak to
this woman ! I suppose I must have been thinking of her all
last night after your letter came, for some time in the morning
I woke with a dream that was so dear and delicious. I was at
the Court ball at the Quirinal, and I was dressed more beauti-
fully than I had ever been dressed before, and looked lovelier
than I had ever looked in my life. And the great people in
their decorations were good to me, and I danced and danced in
the brilliant light, but all the time my heart was in the dark-
ness outside with some one who could not be there, and when I
escaped I ran to him, and he rushed on me like fire and folded
me in his arms and kissed me, and I said : * Take me, clasp
me close, be a man and hold me, and nothing and nobody shall
come between us.'

" But, oh dear, oh dear ! I suppose your fine friend who
loves herself so much better than she loves love would think
me a forward thing and perhaps even suspect I was a wicked
woman; but the woman of my dreams wouldn't have cared
much about that, and if you had told her that you were a poor
man from choice as well as necessity, she would have stripped
off her diamonds in a twinkling.

" One thing I will say, though, for the sister that isn't to be,
and that is, that you are deceiving yourself if you suppose that
she is going to reconcile herself to your separation while she is
kept in the dark as to the cause of it. It is all very well for
you to pay compliments to her beauty and youth and the natu-
ral strength of her mind to remove passing impressions, but
perhaps the impressions are the reverse of passing ones, and if
you go out of her life what is to become of her? Have you
thought of that? Of course you haven't. Let me tell you,
then, what is likely to happen. The veil ! Think of it ! Death,
and yet not death, that's the cruelty of it. It has none of the
peace of death, or its inevitableness or its compensations. She
loves him, but she must think of him as one who is dead, and
perhaps weep a little for him, too, because some dark shadow
rose between them, and all was lost and vain. And he loves
her, and feels her tears in his heart, wherever he may be, and
they follow him and burn him like drops of liquid fire.

" No, no, no I My poor sister, you shall not be so hard on

DAVID ROSSI 209

her. In my darkness I could almost fancy that I personate
her, and I am she and she is I. Conceited, isn't it? But I
told you it wasn't for nothing I was a daughter of Eve. Any-
how I have fought hard for her and beaten you out and out,
and now I don't say : ' Will you go to her? ' You will — I know
you will.

" To-morrow I go to the Chamber of Deputies again ! I'm
dying to see the end of that imbroglio, only I hate to ask a
third time for tickets from the same quarter, and shall be so
happy and proud if you will send me one in your name, and let
me go in for the first time under your wing and countenance.
I dare say it will be a ticket for the people's tribune, but I
shall like it all the better for that, being in the act of wean-
ing myself from places and people that have poisoned my life
too long.

" My bust is out of the caster's hand, and ought to be under
mine, but I've done no work again to-day. Tried, but the glow
of soul was not there, and I was injuring the face at every
touch.

"No further news of'M , and my heart's blood is cold

at the silence. But if you are fearless, why should I be afraid?
Your friend's friend, R."

XII

The large room of the editor at the office of the Sunrise was
filled at four o'clock next day by the fifty odd deputies who
sat on the Extreme Left. Excitement was written on every
countenance. The air was tense and hot. " It is the beginning
of the end," said everybody.

David Rossi presided. His face was white and his manner
was nervous, but the piercing glances he cast about him showed
plainly that he was more troubled about his friends than his
enemies.

" The position in which we find ourselves to-day," he said,
" is not peculiar to Italy ; it exists in England, in Germany, in
Russia, and wherever the old principle of monarchy is strug-
gling with the new principle of representative government.

" The greatest contribution which the nineteenth century
made to the world's progress was what it did to alter the
political status of man. It broke down the theory of authority
and it set up the theory of liberty. It destroyed the pagan
principle of absolutism and established the Christian principle

210 THE ETERNAL CITY

of individual rights. But absolutism has been fighting freedom
ever since. It has fought it in revolutions and been beaten. It
has fought it in courts of law and been beaten. It is now
fighting it in Parliament as its last outwork, and it must be
beaten again."

Then he explained what the Government proposed to do.
It asked Parliament to vote on a bill without debate. That
was an attempt to close the mouth of Parliament. To close
the mouth of Parliament was to close the minds of the people,
and to close the minds of the people was to put the country
at the mercy of a corrupt and unscrupulous Minister. Voters
would be bought and sold, and representative government
would be a farce.

" When a man entered Parliament," said Kossi, " he would
cease to be a name and become a number. He would belong to
a congregation of councillors who need never be consulted,
a college of political cardinals with a head above them who
could wipe out all their work."

There was some strained laughter at this thrust, and the
speaker went on to tell a story. It was of a Pope, who, as head
of one of his congregations, found his will opposed to the will
of his Cardinals. They had voted against him with their black
counters, whereupon he took off his white skull-cap, and laying
it over the black balls, he said, " Your Eminences, they are all
white, apparently — my resolution is passed."

" Do we want the Parliament of the people to be as power-
less as the Congregation of a Pope? " said Rossi. " If not, we
must fight to uphold its reality."

With that, he expounded his scheme of opposition. The
closure could only be put on Parliament by help of its own
elected head — its President. If, at the sitting three days hence,
the President put the bill to the vote without allowing discus-
sion, the instant he had done so the members of their party
should rise in their places like one man, and, with outstretched
arms, cry, " Away ! Away ! " In the face of that protest, the
President would suspend the sitting, and when he presented
himself on the day of the second reading, he would encounter
the same protest.

What would be the result? The President would be com-
pelled to resign, and public business would be impossible until
a successor had been elected, who would undertake to respect
the privileges of Parliament.

" This," said Rossi, " is the only thing we can do as a mi-

DAVID ROSSI 211

nority. As long as there is a rag of parliamentary liberty, we
will stand on it. And if they arrest us and imprison us, let
them do so. We shall have public opinion at our back, and
public opinion is the strongest force in the world — stronger
than governments or armies — and sooner or later it must pre-
vail."

The effect of this advice was not favourable. Amid mur-
murs and groans one of the men rose and made a violent speech.
It was Malatesta.

" What's the good of punishing the President ? " he said.
" The Prime Minister is the prime mover in this, as in every-
thing. He is the real cap of lead that presses on Italian life.
He is the Pope who would put his white hat over our black
counters, and we should begin and end with him."

This was received with exclamations of approval, and, grow-
ing red and hot, the Deputy continued :

" Let us give up talking about Parliament. It is only a
houseful of parasitic clients and time-servers- — the fig-leaf
which absolutism is using to cover its nakedness. Let us go
to the people outside."

Loud shouts greeted this outburst, and the speaker raised
his voice and cried again :

" Think what the man is doing ! He is stopping your work-
men from strikes, your co-operative societies from co-operating,
your trades unions from carrying a banner, your poor peasantry
from meeting next week in the Coliseum to protest against the
tax on bread. He is flooding the city with soldiers. He is
tearing starving men from the plough to shoot down their
brothers and sisters because they are starving! He is paving
the way for famine, and for the pestilence which famine brings
in its train ! Hasn't he done enough ? Are we to be trampled
under foot? Haven't we the ordinary courage of Romans?
Our leaders are like the seven sleepers. What do they pre-
scribe? Some sleeping-dravight. to ease the pains of the people?
Some lengthening of the chain of the prisoner? Useless, and
worse than useless! Is there no one to utter the living word?
The time calls for the leader who will gather the blood of his
heart into the palm of his hand and scatter it abroad to warm
suffering souls."

A universal shout followed those words, and while the
Deputy was still on his feet another man had begim to speak.
It was Luigi Conti.

" You're right, brother," he said. " The people are tired of

212 THE ETERNAL CITY

speechifying. It is time to act, and happily we are able to do
so. Our new association, the Republic of Man, will give us the
sinews of war. Fifty thousand francs in hand, and funds com-
ing every day from the committees in England and Germany
and Russia. We can get supplies of muskets from Belgium,
and, thanks to conscription, our young men can handle
arms."

David Rossi rose again, and with difficulty obtained a
hearing.

"Brothers," he said, in his vibrating voice, "every man
whose understanding is not darkened by passion, must see that
what you arc proposing is to commit robbery and murder.
Robbery, because you propose to use for purposes of violence
funds that were given you to promote peace; and murder
because you propose to put helpless men, women, and children
into the way of being mown down by tens of thousands. It
fihall not be done! I resist, and I forbid it."

There was silence for a moment, and then Malatesta said :

" You threaten to oppose us ? "

" I ivill oppose you."

A general groan followed this declaration, and there was
nmch cross-speaking. Then, with a face of deadly whiteness,
Malatesta rose again.

" Very well," he said ; " since our leader says our first duty
is to deal with this question in Parliament, I am ready — I am
willing. Only," he added, and his black eyes flashed, " if the
Prime Minister, at the sitting three days hence, does what he
says he will do, and we are silenced, and have no remedy then
. ." . then, by God, Fll fire."

"And I!" "And I!" "And I!" "And I!" "And I!"

And the voices rang through the room like a volley of
musketry.

In the midst of this clamour David Rossi rose again.

" You threaten," he said, " to shoot the Prime Minister in
Parliament. If you do that, what will you be doing? You
will be following the example of the Government you de-
nounce— you will be using violence against violence, and
proclaiming yourselves the enemies of law and order. And
what will be the result? Public opinion throughout Europe
will be against you, and you will fling the people back into
the vortex of despair. Euture generations will curse you, and
you will turn back the clock that marks the progress of the
world."

DAVID ROSSI 213

" No matter ! " cried Malatesta, laughing wildly. " We'll
take the consequences. We shall not be called cowards, at all
events."

Certain of the other men joined his laughter, and he lost
himself in personal innuendoes. Some people preached the doc-
trine that freedom was not to be purchased by a drop of blood.
Moral courage? Give them a little physical courage for a
change.

" Brothel's," said David Rossi, rising again, " if you knew
how little personal reason I have for protecting the Baron
Bonelli, how my heart tempts me to stand by while his life
is taken, you would know that it is only at the call of conscience
I tell you the moment the crime is committed I leave your
side for ever."

" Of course you do," cried Malatesta. " You go out to save
your own skin. Why? Because you've lost your courage.
Luigi," he cried, " you are a good Catholic — what do people
do when they've lost something ? "

" Say a Hail Mary to St. Anthony," said Luigi, and then
there was general laughter.

But Malatesta was too hot for trifling.

" I tell you what it is, gentlemen," he cried. " The party
is going to pieces, because our leader is a poltroon and a cow-
ard!"

There was dead silence. David Rossi stood motionless at
the head of the table.

"Don't you understand me, sir?" said Malatesta.

" Perfectly," said David Rossi.

" Well, I have no wish to delay the moment when you ask
for satisfaction. Shall it be to-morrow?"

"Xo, to-day," said David Rossi.

"And where?"

" Here."

"And when?"

" Now."

David Rossi's face was livid. It was with difliculty that he
uttered a word.

Somebody began to protest. It was brutal ! Inconceivable !
The objector was silenced. At moments of intense excitement
the most extraordinary things become possible.

" Lock the doors," cried one voice, and another voice called
for weapons.

" Swords or revolvers — which ? " said Malatesta.

214 THE ETERNAL CITY

" Revolvers," cried Rossi, in measured accents. " They will
be more swift and sure."

Malatesta grew pale. " All right," he said, smiling largely,
but it was clear that fear had taken hold of him.

Revolvers were forthcoming in a moment, seconds were
appointed, and the method of duelling determined. It was to
be the simplest method. The combatants were to be at liberty
to fire at any moment after taking their places ; but if one fired
first and missed, the other was to have the right to advance as
close as he pleased to his opponent.

The hush was breathless. Rossi, deadly pale, but calm and
silent, took his revolver without looking at it. Malatesta,
flushed and noisy, cocked his revolver carefully. Then the
company fell aside, and the two men stood back to back and
walked from the middle to the ends of the room.

The moment Malatesta reached the wall, he turned quickly
and fired. When the smoke cleared, Rossi was seen to be
standing unhurt, with his revolver by his side.

Then the tension was awful. Rossi did not move, and
Malatesta was visibly trembling from head to foot.

" Well, be quick ! Take your revenge," he blurted out.

But still Rossi remained standing.

" Have mercy, will you ? " cried Malatesta in a voice broken
by agony.

Then a strange thing happened.

Rossi took some steps forward, then stopped, and raising his
arm, he fired into the ceiling.

There was a confused murmur among the men huddled by
the walls.

" This was necessary," said Rossi. " I could not cry * peace '
any longer while my people thought I was afraid."

Malatesta flung himself at Rossi's feet in the first torrent
of overwhelming emotion. " Eorgive me," he cried, " forgive
me, forgive me ! "

" Get up," said Rossi. " I forgive you. But remember,
from this hour onward, your life belongs to me."

XIII

David Rossi went home with a heavy heart. The great force
which he had called into existence was passing beyond his
control. A fierce democracy surging around him demanded
that he should follow where he had expected to lead.

DAVID ROSSI 215

" My God ! my God ! What can I do with this people ? "
he asked himself.

But the worst torture he suffered was the secret torture of
his own heart.

" Why did I try to save that man's life ? '' he thought.

The Baron Bonelli had been the enemy of Dr. Roselli, and
had sent him to exile and death.

" I hate the man," he thought.

The moment he became conscious of this idea he was ter-
rified, and began to struggle against it. It was a temptation
of the devil, and he would put it behind his back.

But everything helped and encouraged it. On reaching
home, he found the old Garibaldian porter standing by the
door.

" One moment. Honourable," he whispered with a mysteri-
ous air, and then drawing the Deputy into his lodge at the end
of the passage, and hiding behind the muslin curtains, he
pointed to a young man who was going leisurely down the
street.

" Look there, sir ! There he is ! "

"Who is it?"

" A detective, of course. He has been dogging your steps
for days. Old Vampire is after you. Take care ! Better an
ounce of liberty than a pound of gold, you know."

Conviction had taken hold of Rossi, but he reproved the
old soldier. A detective — yes! Set on, perhaps, by the chiefs
of police. Such men spent their lives in seeking for crime.
They couldn't help it. It was the natural deformity of the
police mind that few men were innocent for them, and none
were above suspicion. But the statesmen . . . no, it was im-
possible, he wouldn't believe it.

That night old John came for his weekly pension, and after
he had received it he lingered a moment like a man who wished
to say something. At length, in a husky voice, he whispered —

" Darkness with darkness keeps dark. Excellency, can you
keep a secret ? "

His grandson was in the new secret service, and had been
told to keep watch on somebod3^ He watched him every day,
and every night he reported to the Minister of the Interior
himself.

" Better be a wood-bird than a cage-bird, Excellency," the
old man whispered, " and may the blessed Saints preserve you ! "

Bossi understood at length the reference in the House of

216 THE ETERNAL CITY

Deputies to his intercourse with the Vatican — he had. been
followed to the Jesuit College. The Baron Bonelli was his
own enemy, as well as the enemy of Dr. Eoselli, and he was
using the lowest methods of the law to compromise and catch
him,

"Why did I try to save the man's life?" he asked himself
again.

Bruno came home with a mysterious story. The Prime
Minister had that day visited Trinita de' Monti in the absence
of Donna Roma, and Bruno had overheard his conversation
with Felice.

" ' Felice/ says old Vampire, ' you've never had reason to
regret that I deprived myself of your invaluable services and
gave the benefit of them to your mistress ? ' ' K^ever, Excel-
lency,' said the ' Cardinal.' ' You are quite content to receive
two salaries instead of one ? ' ' Quite, Excellency.' ' Then tell
me what has happened here since I heard from you last ? ' "

Rossi reproved Bruno for eavesdropping, but his blood was
boiling. The Baron Bonelli was Roma's enemy as well as her
father's; he was using her as a weapon against himself, and
Heaven alone knew what degradation she was suffering at the
man's hand.

" Why did I try to save his contemptible life ? " he thought
again and again.

Next morning a colleague in Parliament called upon him.
He was a big, bluff, hearty creature — a doctor.

" This won't do at all," he said. " You're as white as a
ghost and as nervous as a cat, and old Francesca says you
haven't eaten anything worth talking of for a week. Remem-
ber what the Romans say — ' City in hunger, citadel taken.'
ISTot hungry? Of course you're not — that's just the mischief.
Look here, old fellow ! you'll have to go out of town. You
will ! By the Holy Saints, you will ! Good men are scarce, and
you know what we say in Piedmont — 'At the end of the game
the king goes into the sack as well as the footman.' But your
game is not over yet, and what do you say to a week at Porto
d'Anzio? . . . When? Now — to-day — first train down."

David Rossi saw through the artifice instantly. His col-
leagues were trying to get him out of the way. They intended
to carry out their threat, in spite of all his protests. In open
Parliament, at the moment when the Minister was trampling
on the constitutional rights of the people, they meant to shoot
him down. And why shouldn't they? The man was putting

DAVID ROSSI 217

himself beyond tlie reach of human law. Very well ! send him
to the bar of divine justice ! It would be justifiable homicide !

And David Rossi? David Eossi had only to stand aside
and let things take their course. When the blow was struck,
he would be far away, and no one would be able to assert that
he had aided or abetted it. Xay, it could even be proved that
he had protested against the proposal, and stood to be shot at in
order to uphold his protest. " But this is the devil fighting a
way out for my conscience," he thought, and he said aloud :

" Xo, I will not leave Rome at present. I have my duty as
a Deputy, and I must be in Parliament the day after to-
morrow."

The day-editor came from the office of the Sunrise with a
letter from his proprietors. They were surprised at his curt
refusal to meet them on the confiscation of the issue of two
days ago, and, after earnest consideration of the situation,
they had concluded that his duties as Deputy and his responsi-
bilities as editor were liable to conflict, and therefore they
suggested that he should resign his seat in Parliament.

" Another temptation of the devil," he thought, and he sat
down instantly to resign his position as editor. " I shall be
ready to relinquish my chair as soon as my successor has been
appointed," he wrote; and the assistant carried off his letter
with many smirks and smiles.

His mind was confused with conflicting impulses, and he
could not settle to work. So he sent upstairs for little Joseph,
and spent a great part of the day playing with the boy on the
floor. Joseph was portiere as usual, clad in the gorgeous finery
of his father's biggest hat and his jacket turned inside out.
And when David Rossi came on hands and knees and inquired
in the manner of a dog for Donna Roma's poodle, the great
person who presided over the portone drove him away with his
mace, and he went off barking.

" Holy Virgin ! Who would believe he had a newspaper
and a Parliament on his head I " said old Francesca, and she
laughed until she cried.

Xight fell, and he was no further advanced than at the
beginning of the day. He helped Elena to put little Joseph
to bed, and then returned to his room to walk and to think.
What was he to do? Stand aside and let the Minister meet
with the death he desei'ved ? Or go to the authorities and warn
them that a crime was about to be committed ? To these ques-
tions he could find no answer.
15

218 THE ETERNAL CITY

On the one side were the rights and liberties of the people,
the memory of Dr. lioselli's wrongs, the thought of himself,
and, above all, of Roma. On the other side was conscience —
strong, grim, and inexorable !

The great fact of all was his own hatred of the Minister
and his interest in the man's death. Baron Bonelli was the
worst enemy he had in the world. Kightly considered, he was
tlie true obstacle between Koma and himself, the dark cloud of
danger which made their union impossible.

" If he were dead, we might live," he thought. But that
was precisely why the man must not die. If he consented to
the Minister's death, if he stood by and permitted it, he knew
that every hour of his future life would be racked by the mem-
ory of how he had allowed his private interest to beguile his
conscience.

But must he betray his colleagues instead? They were his
friends, his confederates; he had created the cause they were
trying to uphold, and must he send them to prison because they
had passed beyond his control ?

He slept little that night, and awoke next morning with no
clearer view of the situation. Weak, helpless, broken-spirited,
and very humble, he turned to thoughts of God. He would
seek help from above.

Since his days with Dr. Roselli in London, he had not
been in the habit of going to church, but he would go to church
to-day. Surely the church, the old mother church, which had
seen so many sorrows, Avould have some answer for a perplexed
and tortured mind.

He walked along the bank of the Tiber, crossed the bridge
and came to the great square in front of St. Peter's. It was
very quiet and almost empty. The fountains were playing in
the earlj- morning sunlight, the clock in the cupola was chim-
ing, and a Swiss Guard, in his parti-coloured uniform, was
walking to and fro with a rifle on his shoulder before the
bronze gate to the Vatican.

A cul-de-sac, cut off from the stream of life and the world,
leading to nothing but itself, and echoing only to the boot of
the armed sentinel, such was the way to the great monument
of the church and the home of its anointed head.

" My God ! My God ! What am I to do with this people ? "
thought Rossi, and in a spirit of reverent submission he en-
tered the Basilica.

The great church presented its usual morning aspect — the

DAVID EOSSI 219

marble floor, the glistening walls, the gilded roof, the scarlet
hangings, and the window of the dove over the altar in the apse,
glowing in the sunshine with the light of an amber eye.

In the Chapel of the Chorus, before a few worshippers on
their knees, the canons were chanting their office in weary and
monotonous voices. When it was over they gathered up their
books and went off briskly, like workmen relieved at the dinner
hour, chatting cheerfully as they passed into the sacristy.

The Chapel of the Blessed Sacrament was closed, but out-
side its iron gates a large group of countrymen were kneeling
with their tired faces towards the altar. One of their number
was reading a prayer and the others were repeating the re-
sponses. They were pilgrims, who had come for the indulgences
of the Holy Year.

Before the black statue of St. Peter another group of pil-
grims, miserably clad, were passing one by one, each of them
in turn putting his lips and forehead to the worn and pol-
ished foot. Their poor cheeks were thin and pinched, their
eyes were dull and lifeless, but their devotion was deep and
true.

A third group of pilgrims better dressed than the others,
the men chiefly in sheepskins, the women in black lace shawls,
were kneeling about the tomb of the apostle. They were peas-
ants from a distant province, and they were being led by a
priest, who was himself a peasant, from church to church and
from relic to relic, that they too might win some exemption
from the pains of the purgatory waiting for all.

The arch-priest of the Basilica passed across the nave to the
sacristy. As Secretary of State to the Pope, he wore the scar-
let robes of a Cardinal, and had a Monsignor walking behind
him. The poor pilgrims in their miserable clothes, with their
tired and expressionless faces, crowded about him and kissed
his ring. He allov/ed them to do so, but he looked at few of
them and spoke to none.

" My God ! My God ! What am I to do with this people ? "

The Church was giving no answer to the cry ringing in
Eossi's heart. Devotion, sincerity, fervour — all these were
there! But the message of the Church to the human soul
— what was it? Fear I

Fear of God! Fear of Christ! Fear of the hereafter!
Fear of the unknown !

Such was the beginning and end of the message of the
Catholic Church to the human soul, as Rossi saw it at that

220 THE ETERNAL CITY

moment, and fear had no answer to a heart that was craving
for courage and strength.

David Rossi returned home and called for the boy again.
They fed the squirrels on the roof, and going into the great
cage, the canaries lit on them one after another, until they
looked as if they were playing in an apple orchard and had
shaken the blossoms over their heads.

But when the day closed in, and Rossi had seen little
Joseph to bed, and written his article for next morning's paper,
the same irresolution returned.

He went out to walk in the darkness of the streets. Had
this old city, which had witnessed so many struggles, no an-
swer for him anywhere?

Going up to the Roman Forum, he walked along the broken
parapets until he came under the sere old mass of the Colise-
um. The amphitheatre was empty and silent. Not a sound
of bird or beast or man among the vast and awful ruins.
Only the faint rattle of wheels in the streets behind, the
thin tinkle of the electric trams, and the other noises of far-off
life. Dark, desolate, long dead, like an inverted skull with
toothless jaws and eyeless sockets, like the moon seen
through a telescope, charred and lifeless, like a crater whose
fire is spent — such was the great monument of the old Pagan
mother !

Fear was not the religion of man in her day ! Men were not
afraid to die then ! This old amphitheatre had once heard the
trumpets of the grand entry of the Emperors, and rang with
the shouts of the Imperial people, and witnessed the intoxica-
tion of ferocious love when Roman ladies turned down their
inexorable thumbs on the fallen and lost.

But what was the message of the Pagan world to the human
soul? Death! Only death!

Wait ! Had this old monument of the dead centuries no
memories but those of bloody gladiatorial spectacles?

David Rossi began to think of the martyrs who had died on
that spot, and straightway the empty Coliseum began to be
filled with an audience of ghosts. What a power in martyr-
dom ! Roman Emperors, Roman ladies. Imperial people — ^what
were they now? Only dust and ashes. But the martyrs were
alive !

The golden house of ISTero was gone, but that cross of wood
on which the Saviour stretched his arms and died was govern-
ing the world still ! To die, not for your friends only, but for

DAVID ROSSI 221

your enemies also, that was the great secret ! And life — life
by martyrdom — that was the message of Christ !

As Rossi thought of this a voice, at first very faint, seemed
to speak within him, and he saw, in an instant, as by a flash of
light, what he ought to do in the Chamber of Deputies the fol-
lowing day. He could see himself doing it, and the hair of his
head stood up.

XIV

Before going to bed that night Rossi replied to Roma :

My Dearest, — Bruno will take this letter, and I will charge
him on his soul to deliver it safely into your hands. When you
have read it, you will destroy it immediately, both for your sake
and my own.

" From this moment onward I throw away all disguises.
The duplicities of love are sweet and touching, but I cannot
play hide-and-seek with you any longer.

" You are right — it is you that I love, and little as I under-
stand and deserve it, I see now that you love me with all your
soul and strength. I cannot keep my pen from writing it, and
yet it is madness to do so, for the obstacles to our union are
just as insurmountable as before.

" It is not only my unflinching devotion to public work that
separates us, though that is a serious impediment; it is not
only the inequality of our birth and social conditions, though
that is an honest difiiculty. The barrier between us is not
merely a barrier made by man, it is a barrier made by God — it
is death.

" Think what that would be in the ordinafy case of death by
disease. A man is doomed to die by cancer or consumption, and
even while he is engaged in a desperate struggle with the
mightiest and most relentless conqueror, love comes to him with
its dreams of life and happiness. What then? Every hour of
joy is poisoned for him henceforth by visions of the end that is
so near, in every embrace he feels the arms of death about him,
and in every kiss the chill breath of the tomb.

" Terrible tragedy ! Yet not without relief. N'ature is
kind. Her miracles are never ending. Hope lives to the last.
The balm of God's healing hand may come down from heaven
and make all things well. Not so the death I speak of. It is
pitiless and inevitable, without hope or dreams.

222 THE ETERNAL CITY

" Remember what I told you in this room on the night you
came here first. Had you forgotten it ? Your father, charged
with an attempt at regicide, as part of a plan of insurrection,
was deported without trial, and I, who shared his vietvs, and
had expressed them in letters that were violated, being outside
the jurisdiction of the courts, was tried in contumacy and con-
demned to death.

" I am back in Italy for all that, under another name, my
mother's name, which is my name, too, thanks to the merciless
marriage laws of my country, with other aims and other
opinions, but I have never deceived myself for a moment.
The same doom hangs over me still, and though the court
which condemned me was a military court, and its sentence
would be modified by a Court of Assize, I see no difference be-
tween death in a moment on the gallows, and in five, ten, twenty
years in a cell.

" What am I to do ? I love you, you love me. Shall I, like
the poor consumptive, to whom gleams of happiness have come
too late, conceal everything and go on deluding myself with
hopes, indulging myself with dreams? It would be unpardon-
able, it would be cruel, it would be wrong and wicked.

" jN^o, it is impossible. You cannot but be aware that my
life or liberty are in serious jeopardy, and that my place in
Parliament and in public life is in constant and hourly peril.
Every letter that you have written to me shows plainly that you
know it. And when you say your heart's blood runs cold at the
thought of what may happen when Minghelli returns from
England, you betray the weakness, the natural weakness, the
tender and womanly weakness, Avhich justifies me in saying
that as long as we love each other, you and I should never meet
again. •

" Don't think that I am a coward and tremble at the death
that hangs over me. I neither fear the future nor regret the
past. In every true cause some one is called to martyrdom. To
die for the right, for humanity, to lay down all you hold most
dear for the sake of the poor and the weak and the down-trod-
den and God's holy justice — it is a magnificent duty*, a privi-
lege ! And I am ready. If my death is enough, let me give the
last drop of my blood, and be dragged through the last degrees
of infamy. Only don't let me drag another after me, and en-
danger a life that is a thousand times dearer to me than
my own.

" What am I ? I am a man under God's hand from his

DAVID ROSSI 223

cradle upwards, and I do not complain, for he whom God's hiuid
rests on has God at his rig^t hand. He wished me to give my-
self. He called me with a baptism as of fire to my work, and to
help me to do it He took away from me family and kindred and
friends and home. Shall love come at the last and hold me
back?

" It would do that and more — far more. I want you,
dearest, I want you with my soul, but my doom is certain, it
waits for me somewhere, it may be here, it may be there, it may
come to me to-morrow, or next day, or next year, but it is com-
ing, I feel it, I am sure of it, and I will not fly away. But if I
go on imtil my beloved is my bride, and my name is stamped all
over her, and she has taken up my fate, and Ave are one, and the
world knows no diiference, what then? Then death with its
sure step will come in to separate us, and after death for me,
danger, shame, poverty for you, all the penalties a woman pays
for her devotion to a man who is down and done.

" I couldn't bear it. The very thought of it would unman
me. It would turn heaven into hell. It would disturb the
repose of the grave itself.

" Isn't it hard enough to do what is before me without tor-
menting myself with thoughts like these? It is true I have
had my dreams like other men — dreams of the woman whom
Heaven might give a man for his support — the anchor to which
his soul might hold in storm and tempest, and in the very hour
of death itself. But what w^oman is equal to a lot like that?
Martyrdom is for man. God keep all women safe from it !

" Have I said sufficient ? If this letter gives you half the
pain on reading it that I have felt in writing it, you will be
satisfied at last that the obstacles to our union are permanent
and insuperable. The time is come when I am forced to tell
you the secrets which I have never before revealed to any hu-
man soul. You know them now\ They are in your keeping,
and it is enough.

" I do not send you the cards for the Chamber, because for
reasons of my own I could wish you not to come — not to-
morrow at all events.

" Heaven be over you ! And when you are reconciled to our
separation, and both of us are strong, remember that if you
want me I will come, and that as long as I live, as long as I am
at liberty, I shall be always ready, always waiting, always near.
God bless you, my dear one ! Adieu ! David Leone."

224 THE ETERNAL CITY

XV

Long before ten o'clock next morning the little streets
around the House of Parliament were blocked with excited
crowds. The piazza in front was kept open by a cordon of
soldiers, and lines of Carabineers were posted down the prin-
cipal thoroughfares to clear a passage for the deputies.

Inside the Chamber the excitement was yet more intense.
As early as half-past nine members had begun to gather in the
corridors. The little company of lifty men who constituted the
Extreme Left were walking, most of them bareheaded, in the
courtyard out of the principal lobby. David Rossi was not
yet among them, and they were looking alternately at their
watches and at the door leading from the entrance hall. At
two minutes to ten their leader was still absent, and they be-
gan to glance into each other's faces with looks of relief
and hope.

" He'll not come now," said one. " Thank God ! " said an-
other, and they turned to go to their places.

Meantime the larger party that followed the Government
had been gathering in agitated groups and talking in bated
breath. The talk was, that the Prime Minister, who had eyes
everywhere, had found out something. As a result, he had gone
to the Quirinal early this morning and held counsel with the
King. Then, coming down to the House, he had sent for the
President and communicated some command of His Majesty.
After that he had sent for the Minister of War, and immedi-
ately afterwards two companies of infantry had been called
up. They were in the House now.

When the clock struck ten the Ministerial party trooped
into the Chamber, and in a moment the corridors were empty.

The Baron Bonelli was then in the Presidential room at the
top of the great staircase. He was perfectly calm and self-
possessed, and wore the usual flower in his buttonhole. The
Questore (the Sergeant of the House) had come to say the
President was about to take his seat, when one of the ushers,
with the tri-coloured badge, brought in a card on which a
message was written.

" Bring the lady up at once," said the Baron.

The lady was Roma, and the Baron met her at the door.

" This is like old times," he said. " But why are you here
to-day, my child ? "

" Why not to-day ? " she asked.

DAVID ROSSI 225

" Because ... to tell you the truth, there may be trouble.
Your friend, Pontifex Maximus of the Piazza Xavona, is
credited with a desire to create a disturbance. In any case the
sitting may be disagreeable, and I advise you to go home."

" But you excite my interest beyond expression, and I would
not go home for worlds," said Roma.

" As you please," said the Baron, leading the way to the
entrance to the gallery, and chatting on other subjects. How
lovely she looked this morning! Was he never to see her any
more alone ? Surely he had waited long enough. There was an
important matter which they had never yet cleared up. When
should he call ?

" I have a reception to-morrow afternoon to show my foun-
tain and studies and so forth," said Roma.

" I will be there," said the Baron, and he kissed her hand
and left her.

The door of the gallery had closed, and the Minister was
turning to go into the Chamber, when he came face to face with
David Rossi, who was hurrying to his seat. By a sudden im-
pulse he stopped and spoke to him.

" Mr. Rossi," he said, in his quiet, incisive accents, " if you
will take the advice of an adversary, you will be careful about
what you do to-day. Permit me to tell you that you stand on
the edge of a precipice; and if you have no regard for your own
life and liberty, you ought at least to respect the dignity of
this Chamber in the eyes of Europe."

The two men were alone in the lobby, and the Minister
waited a moment for a reply, but David Rossi only bowed and
passed on.

Through her white kid glove the kiss of the Baron's lips
was still stinging on Roma's hand, and she was blushing with
shame at a certain sense of her own insincerity when the usher
in attendance showed her into the Court tribune. The little
Princess was there already, with Don Camillo and a foreign
acquaintance. All the galleries were crowded, and nearly every
seat below was occupied. The sun was shining through the
cupola and the heat was already very great.

Full as the House was, there was a strange silence. Xo
laughter, no joking, no talking, no saluting of the ladies in the
tribunes. Only a restless turning to the clock under the re-
porters' gallery, and the swish of the large leaves of a square
pamphlet which lay on every desk, headed " Chamber of Depu-
ties. Project of Law presented by the Minister of the Interior

226 THE ETERNAL CITY

(Bonelli), together with the Minister of War (Morra), for the
better security of the public."

Don Camillo was pointing out the deputies to his foreign
friend.

" Those are the Ministers on the bench under the Presi-
dent's chair — ' the bench of the accused ' the Eadicals call it.
Solemn-looking? Yes, solemn as owls. When a man becomes
a Minister his laughing days are over, fhe Prime Minister?
JSTot in yet. Ah, there he is ! That's Bonelli coming in now.
Firm face, you say? Looks as if it had been moulded in iron
and then twisted awry. Means mischief this morning, it seems
to me."

" Will you lend me your opera-glass, Gi-gi ? " said Roma.

])avid Rossi had also entered the House, and Roma scanned
his face closely. It was ashen pale.

" I will make him look up," thought Roma, and she gazed
steadfastly down at him. Presently his eyes rose to the Court
tribiuie for a moment. She knew that he saw her, for his lips
twitched, and the fingers that played with his watch-chain
trembled. The opera-glass almost fell out of her hands. She
was in a fever of excitement.

At five minutes after ten the President entered the Cham-
ber, followed by his secretaries. He took his seat in silence, and
in silence he rang his bell.

" The sitting has begun," he said.

The minutes of the day were read in a loud, clear voice, but
nobody heard them, because nobody listened. Then the Prime
Minister rpse to move the first reading of his bill for the better
security of the public, and the silence was as the silence of a
glacier. Beating every word with his fist on the table, he said
the conditions were urgent, and therefore it was the will of the
King and the desire of the Government that the vote should be
taken without debate.

Immediately two or three members rose on the Left and
cried, "I ask permission to speak." But the President, pre-
tending not to hear or see them, rang his bell and put the
question.

" I ask to speak," cried a dozen shrill voices from the Left,
but at the same moment a hundred voices on the Right roared
"Vote!"

" Those who are in favour say * Aye,' " said the President.

" Aye " shouted two hundred and fifty voices at once.

" I ask to speak ! " cried another hysterical voice on the Left.

DAVID ROSSI 227

" Those who are against say * !No ' " said the President.

" I ask to speak ! I ask to speak ! "

" I think the ' Ayes ' have it, the ' Ayes ' have it," said the
President, and then there was a terrific clamour. The Left
stood up in a body and shouted their protests at the Presi-
dent.

" It's illegal ! " *' It's null and void ! " " It's against the
statute ! "

The Prime Minister rose again, and straightway he became
the target for a volley of insults.

" Traitor! " " Scoundrel! " " Accidenti! " " A fit take you."

In the midst of this uproar, from her place in the tribune,
Koma distinctly saw, amid the swaying of arms and the shaking
of fists, the glint of revolvers. Under cover of the commotion
two men on the Left had drawn their weapons and were prepar-
ing to fire at the Baron. He would be killed. Would nobody
stop them ? Did no one see them except herseK ?

Koma found herself on her feet, trying to cry out but unable
to do so, when suddenly something else happened. David Rossi
stepped out of his place and stood directly between the Baron
and the men with the revolvers.

Roma screamed and felt herself falling forward. The
uproar seemed to fade away, her eyes became dazed, darkness
and silence came in one stride over the palpitating light and
deafening noise, she heard her own name spoken above her, and
then all was gone.

When David Rossi at the height of the tumult stepped into
the open space on the floor between the bench of the Ministers
and the first row of desks, and covered the Baron with his larger
figure, his own people knew perfectly what he was doing. Of all
the courses they had counted on this was the last — that he
should prevent the execution of their threat to kill the Prime
Minister by making it necessary that ifi order to do so they
must first kill him.

In their bewilderment at this act their voices failed them in
an instant, and there was a moment of breathless silence. But
the larger party on the Right misunderstood both Rossi's
action and its effect on his followers, and seeing a man standing
with his back immediately before a Minister who was on his
feet, waiting to speak, they leapt to the conclusion that a low-
bred insult was intended, and with one accord they arose and
shouted at the offender.

The Left recovered from their surprise at seeing this error.

228 THE ETERNAL CITY

and replied to their adversaries with howls of indignant de-
rision. The scene that followed was only one stage removed
from bedlam.

" Gutter snipe ! " " Jail bird ! " " Scum of the poorhouse ! "
cried the Right.

" Fools ! " " Asses ! " cried the Left.

Meantime David Rossi continued to stand before the Baron,
with his face towards his own people, and one by one they
turned away from him and trooped out of the House.

" Long live the Republic ! " they shouted as they went.

" Long live the King ! " replied their adversaries.

When the seats on the Left were entirely empty, the clamour
on the Right subsided, and the bell of the President began to be
heard. Then, as Rossi was about to follow his people, the
Baron touched him on the shoulder and said, with a flushed
face, in a bitter whisper :

" Honourable, when you wish to insult me again, be good
enough to choose some other method than standing between
me and my Parliament."

XVI

Out in the corridor one of the ushers was hurrying along
with a glass of water and a bottle of brandy.

" What's amiss ? " asked some one.

" A lady is ill," the usher answered. " She has been carried
up to the Presidential drawing-room."

"Who is it?"

" Donna Roma."

The man who had just now stood to be shot at turned white
as a sheet and trembled violently. He ran upstairs in front of
the usher, three steps at a time.

Before a door of a room at the head of the great staircase
a group of servants were huddled together. Rossi would have
pushed through, but they stopped him.

" Sorry, Honourable," said the doorkeeper. " I have orders
to admit nobody."

At that instant the Prime Minister came up with a quick
step, whereupon the doorkeeper fell aside, and the Baron passed
into the room.

Rossi felt an impulse to push the ushers away, but his frame,
strung like a bow a moment ago, was now relaxed and power-
less. He would have given all the world to do the least thing

DAVID ROSSI 229

for Roma at that moment, the very least little thing, but he was
kept out and could do nothing.

With a scared look he was glancing through the open door
and hearing voices from an inner chamber when his colleague,
the Doctor, came out of the room.

" What is it, in Heaven's name ? " he asked in a husky whis-
per. " Is she ill ? Is she better ? "

■■' Oh, yes."

"Thank God! Oh, thank God!" he said, choking with
emotion and laying hold of his colleague's arm.

The Doctor looked at him and smiled.

" Wh^, it was nothing," he said. " A fainting fit, that's all.
The heat and the noise and . , ."

" Are you sure it's nothing worse ? Hadn't you better go
back and stay with her a little longer ? "

" Tut ! I didn't think, old fellow, that you could be fright-
ened at . . ."

" Tes, yes, but a woman, you know — one can't bear that a
woman . . ."

The big, bluff doctor grew red about the eyes and his voice
thickened with unwonted feeling.

" By God, Rossi, you're a man. I saw what you did five
minutes ago, and now . . . Stay here; she'll be out presently.
God bless you, old chap ! "

Then David Rossi heard the rustle of a woman's dress,
and the voice of somebody speaking, soothingly, lovingly,
almost familiarly. But he turned away from the door and
a perfume that he knew followed him as he passed up the
stairs.

From the library on the third floor he looked down to the
piazza. Roma's carriage was waiting by the portico, and pres-
ently Roma herself got into it, half supported by the Baron,
who was bareheaded and smiling. She was very pale, but she
smiled back at him as she sank into her seat.

David Rossi would have given his soul for that smile. He
went home with a tortured mind.

" What have I done ? " he thought. " I hate that man, I
want him dead, yet I have saved his life ! What is the re-
sult? I have thrown Roma back into his hands. That is all
it comes to, and I have lied against my oicn heart! "

Half an hour after he reached the Piazza Xavona. a letter
came by a flying messenger on a bicycle. It was written in
pencil and in large straggling characters.

230 THE ETERNAL CITY

" Dear Mr. Rossi, — Your letter has arrived and been read,
and, yes, it has been destroyed, too, according to your wish,
although the flames that burnt it burnt my hand also, and
scorched ray heart as well.

" JSTo doubt you have done wisely. You know better than I
do what is best for both of us, and I yield, I submit. Only —
and therefore- — I must see you immediately. There is a mat-
ter of some consequence on which I wish to speak. It has
nothing to do with the subject of your letter — nothing directly,
at all events — nor yet is it in any way related to the Minghelli
mischief-making. So you may receive me without fear. And
yoTi will find me with a heart at ease. *

" Didn't I tell you that if you wouldn't come to me I must
go to you ? Expect me this evening about Ave Maria, and ar-
range it that T may sec you alone. Roma V.

" P.S. — J saw and I understood what you did in the Cham-
ber to-day, but I suppose that f(n' your people's sake I must
neither speak nor think of it."

XVIT

As Ave Maria approached, David Rossi became still more
agitated. The sky had darkened, but there was no wind; the
air was empty, and he listened with strained attention for every
sound from the staircase and the street. At length he heard
a cab stop at the door, and a moment afterwards a light hurry-
ing footstep in the outer room seemed to beat upon his heart.

The door opened and Roma came in quickly, with a scarcely
audible salutation. He saw her with her golden complexion
and her large violet eyes, wearing a black hat and an astrachan
coat, but his head was going round and his pulses were beat-
ing violently, and he could not control his eyes.

" I have come for a minute only," she said. " You received
my letter ? "

Rossi bent his head.

" David, I want the fulfilment of your promise."

"What promise?"

" The promise to come to me when I stand in need of you.
I need you now. My fountain is practically finished, and to-
morrow afternoon I am to have a reception to exhibit it. Every-
body will be there, and I want you to be present also."

" Is that necessary ? " he asked.

DAVID EOSSI 231

" For my purposes, yes. Don't ask me why. Don't question
me at all. Only trust me and come."

She was speaking in a firm and rapid voice, and looking up
he saw that her brows were contracted, her lips were set, her
cheeks were slightly flushed, and her eyes were shining. He
had never seen her like that before. " What is the secret of it ? "
he asked himself, but he only answered, after a brief pause :

" Very well, I will be there."

" That's all. I might have written, but I was afraid you
might object, and I wished to make quite certain. Adieu ! "

He had only bowed to her as she entered, /ind now she was
going away without offering her hand.

" Roma," he said, in a voice that sounded choked.

She stopped but did not speak, and he felt himself growing
hot all over.

" I'm relieved — so nnich relieved — to hear that you agree
with what I said in my letter."

" The last — in which you wish me to forget you ? "

" It is better so — far better. I am one of those who think
that if either party to a marriage " — he was talking in a con-
strained way — " entertains beforehand any rational doubt
about it, he is wiser to withdraw, even at the church door,
rather than set out on a life-long voyage under doubtful aus-
pices."

" Ah, well ! " she said, taking a long breath and turning
a little away.

" But don't think I shall not suffer in parting from you,
Roma. Thy will he done. There are moments in life when it
isn't easy to say that. At least I can pray that you may be
happy — and perhaps in eternity . . ."

" Didn't we promise not to speak of this ? " she said impa-
tiently. Then their eyes met for a moment, and he knew that
he was false to himself and that his talk of renunciation was a
mockery.

" Roma," he said again, " if you want me in the future you
must write."

Her face clouded over.

" For your own sake, you know ..."

" Oh, that ! That's nothing at all — nothing now."

" But people are insulting me about you and . . ."

"Well— and you?"

The colour rushed to his cheeks and he smote the back of a
chair with his clenched fist.

232 THE ETERNAL CITY

" I tell them . . ."

" I understand," she said, and her eyes began to shine again.
But she only turned away, saying : " I'm sorry you are angry
that I came."

" Angry ! " he cried, and at the sound of his voice as he said
the word their love for each other went thrilling through and
through them.

The rain had begun to fall, and it was beating with smart
strokes on the window panes.

" You can't go now," he said, " and since you are never to
come here again there is something you ought to hear,"

She took a seat immediately, unfastened her coat, and
slipped it back on to her shoulders.

The thick-falling drops were drenching the piazza, and its
pavement was bubbling like a lake.

" The rain will last for some time," said Rossi, looking out,
" and the matter I speak of is one of some urgency, therefore
it is better that you should hear it now."

Taking the pins out of her hat, Roma lifted it off and laid it
in her lap, and began to pull off her gloves. The noble young
head with its glossy hair and lovely face shone out with a new
beauty.

Rossi hardly dared to look at her. He was afraid that if
he allowed himself to do so he would fling himself at her
feet. " How calm she is," he thought. " What is the mean-
ing of it ? "

He went to the bureau by the wall and took out a small
round packet.

" Do you remember your father's voice? " he asked.

" That is all I do remember about my father. Why ? "

" It is here in this cylinder."

She rose quickly and then slowly sat down again.

" Tell me," she said.

" When your father was deported to the island of Elba, he
was a prisoner at large, without personal restraint but under
police supervision. The legal term of domicilio coatto is from
one year to five, but excuses were found and his banishment
was made perpetual. He saw prisoners come and go, and in the
sealed chamber of his tomb he heard echoes of the world out-
side."

" Did he ever hear of me? "

" Yes, and of myself as well. A prisoner brought him news
of one David Rossi, and under that name and the opinions

DAVID ROSSI 233

attached to it he recognised David Leone, the boy he had
brought up and educated. He wished to send me a message."

" Was it about ..."

" Yes. The letters of prisoners are read and copied, and
to smuggle out by hand a written document is difficult or
impossible. But at length a way was. discovered. Some one
sent a phonograph and a box of cylinders to one of the pris-
oners, and the little colony of exiled ones used to meet at your
father's house to hear the music. Among the cylinders were
certain blank ones. Your father spoke on to one of them, and
when the time came for the owner of the phonograph to leave
Elba, he brought the cylinder back with him. This is the
cylinder your father spoke on to."

With an involuntary shudder she took out of his hands a
circular cardboard-box, marked in print on the outside : " Se-
lections from Faust," and in pencil on the inside of the lid:
" For the hands of D. L. only — to be destroyed if Deputy David
Rossi does not know where to find him."

The heavy rain had darkened the room, but by the red
light of a dying fire he could see that her face had turned
white.

" And this contains my fathers voice," she said.

" His last message."

" He is dead — two years dead — and yet . . ."

" Can you bear to hear it ? "

" Go on," she said, hardly audibly.

He took back the cylinder, put it on the phonograph, wound
up the instrument, and touched the lever. Through the strokes
of the rain, lashing the window like a hundred whips, the whiz-
zing noise of the machine began.

He was standing by her side, and he felt her hand on
his arm.

Then through the sound of the rain and of the phonograph
there came a clear, full voice:

" David Leone — your old friend Doctor Eoselli sends you
his dying message . . ."

The hand on Rossi's arm clutched it convulsively, and, in
a choking whisper, Roma said :

" Wait ! Give me one moment."

She was looking around the darkening room as if almost
expecting a ghostly presence.

She bowed her Ijead. Her breath came quick and fast.

" I am better now. Go on," she said.
16

234 THE ETERNAL CITY

The whirring noise began again, and after a moment the
clear voice came as before :

" My son, the promise I made when we parted in London I
fulfilled faithfully, but the letter I write to you never came to
your hands. It was meant to tell you who I was, and why I
changed my name. That is too long a story now, and I must
be brief. I am Prospero Volonna. My father was the last
prince of that name. Except the authorities and their spies,
nobody in Italy knows me as Roselli and nobody in England as
Volonna — nobody but one, my poor dear child, my daughter
Roma."

The hand tightened on Rossi's arm, and his head began to
swim.

" Little by little, in this grave of a living man, I have heard
what has happened since I was banished from the world. The
treacherous letter which called me back to Italy and decoyed
me into the hands of the police was the work of the man who
now holds my estates as the payment for his treachery."

" The Baron ? "

Rossi had stopped the phonograph.

" Can you bear it? " he said.

The pale young face flushed with resolution.

" Go on," she said.

When the voice from the phonograph began again it was
more tremulous and husky than before.

" After he had betrayed the father, what impulse of fear or
humanity prompted him to take charge of the child, God alone,
who reads all hearts, can say. lie went to England to look for
her, found her in the streets to which she had been abandoned
by the faithlessness of the guardians to whom I left her, and
shut their mouths by buying them to the perjury of burying
the unknown body of an unfortunate being in the name of my
beloved child."

The hand on Rossi's arm trembled feebly, and slipped down
to his own hand. It was cold as ice. The voice from the
phonograph was growing faint.

" She is now in Rome, living in the name that was mine in
Italy, amid an atmosphere of danger and perhaps of shame.
My son, save her from it. The man who betrayed the father
may betray the daughter also. Take her from him. Rescue
her. It is my dying prayer."

The hand in Rossi's hand was holdings it tightly, and his
blood was throbbing at his heart.

DAVID ROSSI 235

" David," the voice from the phonograph was failing rapidly,
" when this shall come to your hands the darkness of the grave
will be over me. ... In my great distress of mind I torture
myself with many terrors. . . . Do not trifle with my request.
But whatever you decide to do ... be gentle with the child. . . .
I dream of her every night, and send my heart's heart to her on
the swelling tides of love. . . . Adieu, my son. The end is near.
God be with you in all you do that I did ill or left undone.
And if death's great sundering does not annihilate the memory
of those who remain on earth, be sure you have a helper and an
advocate in heaven."

The voice ceased, the whirring of the instrument came to
an end, and an invisible spirit seemed to fade into the air. The
pattering of the rain had stopped, and there was the crackle
of cab wheels on the pavement below. Roma had dropped
Eossi's hand, and was leaning forward on her knees with both
hands over her face. After a moment, she wiped her eyes with
her handkerchief and began to put on her hat.

" How long is it since you received this message ? " she
said.

" On the night you came here first."

" And when I asked you to come to my house on that . . .
that useless errand, you were thinking of ... of my father's
request as well ? "

" Yes."

" You have known all this about the Baron for a month,
yet you have said nothing. Why have you said nothing ? "

" You wouldn't have believed me at first, whatever I had
said against him."

"But afterwards?"

" Afterwards I had another reason."

" Did it concern me ? "

" Yes."

"And now?"

" ISTow that I have to part from you I am compelled to tell
you what he is."

" But if you had known that all this time he has been
trying to use somebody against you . . ."

" That would have made no difference."

She lifted her head and a look of fire, almost of fierceness,
came into her face, but she only said, with a little hysterical
cry, as if her throat were swelling:

" Come to me to-morrow, David ! Be sure you come ! If

236 THE ETERNAL CITY

you don't come I shall never, never forgive you ! But you will
come ! You will ! You will ! "

And then, as if afraid of breaking out into sobs, she turned
quickly and hurried away.

" She can never fall into that man's hands now," he thought.
And then he lit his lamp and sat down to his work, but the
light was gone, and the night had fallen on him.

XVIII

Next morning David Rossi had not yet risen when some one
knocked at his door. It was Bruno. The great fellow looked
nervous and troubled, and he spoke in a husky whisper.

"You're not going to Donna Roma's to-day, sir?"

" Why not, Bruno ? "

" Have you seen her bust of yourself ? "

" Hardly at all."

" Just so. My case, too. She has taken care of that —
locking it up every night, and getting another caster to cast
it. But I saw it the first morning after she began, and I
know what it is."

"What is it, Bruno?"

" You'll be angry again, sir."

"What is it?"

"Judas — that's what it is, sir; the study for Judas in the
fountain for the Municipality."

" Is that all ? "

" All ? . . . But it's a caricature, a spiteful caricature !
And you sat four days and never even looked at it ! I tell you
it's disgusting, sir. Simply disgusting. It's been done on pur-
pose, too. When I think of it I forget all you said, and I hate
the woman as much as ever. And now she is to have a recep-
tion, and you are going to it, just to help her to have her laugh.
Don't go, sir ! Take the advice of a fool, and don't go ! "

"Bruno," said Rossi, lying with his head on his arm, "un-
derstand me once for all. Donna Roma may have used my head
as a study for Judas — I cannot deny that since you say it is so
— but if she had used it as a study for Satan, I would believe
in her the same as ever."

"You would?"

" Yes, by God ! So now, like a good fellow, go away and
leave her alone."

DAVID ROSSI 237

The streets were more than usually full of people when
Eossi set out for the reception. Thick groups were standing
about the hoardings, reading a yellow placard, which was still
wet with the paste of the bill-sticker. It was a proclamation,
signed by the Minister of the Interior, and it ran :

"Romans, — It having come to the knowledge of the Government
that a set of misguided men, the enemies of the throne and of society,
known to he in league with the republican, atheist, and anarchist
associations of foreign countries, are inciting the people to resist the
Just laws made by their duly elected Parliament, and sanctioned hy
their King, thus trying to lead them into outbreaks that would be un-
worthy of a cultivated and generous race, and woxdd disgrace us in
the view of other nations — the Oovernment hereby give notice that
they will not allow the laws to be insulted with impunity, and there-
fore they warn the public against tlie holding of all such mass meet-
ings in public buildings, squares, and streets, as may lead to the
possibility of serious disturbances."

XIX

The little Piazza of Trinita de' Monti was full of carriages,
and Roma's rooms were thronged. David Rossi entered with
the calmness of a man who is accustomed to personal observa-
tion, but Roma met him with an almost extravagant saluta-
tion.

" Ah, you have come at last," she said in a voice that was
intended to be heard by all. And then, in a low tone, she
added, " Stay near me, and don't go until I say you may."

Her face had the expression that had puzzled him the day
before, but with the flushed cheeks, the firm mouth and the
shining eyes, there was now a strange look of excitement, al-
most of hysteria.

The company was divided into four main groups. The
first of them consisted of Roma's aunt, powdered and perfumed,
propped up with cushions on an invalid chair, and receiving
the guests by the door, with the Baron Bonelli, silent and
dignified, but smiling his icy smile, by her side. A second
group consisted of Don Camillo and some ladies of fashion, who
stood by the window and made little half-smothered trills of
laughter. The third group included Lena and Olga, the jour-
nalists, with Madame Sella, the modiste ; and the fourth group

238 THE ETERNAL CITY

was made up of the English and American Ambassadors, Count
Mario, and some other diplomatists.

The conversation was at first interrupted by the little pauses
that follow fresh arrivals ; and after it had settled down to the
dull buzz of a beehive, when the old brood and their queen
are being turned out, it consisted merely of hints, giving
the impression of something in the air that was scandalous
and amusing, but could not be talked about.

"Have you heard that . . ." "Is it true that . . ."
" 'No ? " " Can it be possible ? " " How delicious ! " and then
inaudible questions and low replies, with tittering, tapping of
fans, and insinuating glances.

But Roma seemed to hear everything that was said about
her, and constantly broke in upon a whispered conversation
with disconcerting openness.

"That man here!" said one of the journalists at Rossi's
entrance. " In the same room w'ith the Prime Minister! " said
another. " After that disgraceful scene in the House, too ! "

" I hear that he was abominably rude to the Baron yester-
day," said Madame Sella.

" Rude ? He has blundered shockingly, and offended every-
body. They tell me the Vatican is now up in arms against
him, and is going to denounce him and all his ways."

" No wonder ! He has made himself thoroughly disagree-
able, and I'm only surprised that the Prime Minister . . ."

" Oh, leave the Prime Minister alone. He has something
up his sleeve. . . . Haven't you heard why we are invited here
to-day? No? Xot heard that . . ."

" Really ? So that explains. ... I see, I see ! " and then
more tittering and tapping of fans.

" Certainly, he is an extraordinary man, and one of the
first statesmen in Europe."

" It's so unselfish of you to say that," said Roma, flashing
round suddenly, " for the Minister has never been a friend of
journalists, and I've heard him say that there wasn't one of
them who wouldn't sell his mother's honour if he thought he
could make a sensation."

" Love ? " said the voice of Don Camillo in the silence that
followed Roma's remark. ""What has marriage to do with
love except to spoil it ? " And then, amidst laughter and the
playful looks of the ladies by whom he was surrounded, he gave
a gay picture of his own poverty, and the necessity of mar-
rying to retrieve his fortunes.

DAVID ROSSI 239

" What would you have ? Look at my position ! A great
name, as ancient as history, and no income. A gorgeous pal-
ace, as old as the pyramids, and no cook ! "

" Don't be so conceited about pour poverty, Gi-gi," said
Koma. " Some of the Roman ladies are as poor as the men.
As for me, Madame Sella could sell up every stick in my house
to-morrow, and if the Municipality should throw up my foun-
tain . . ."

" Senator Palomba," said Felice's sepulchral voice from
the door.

The suave, oily little Mayor came in, twinkling his eyes
and saying :

" Did I hear my name as I entered ? "

" I was saying," said Roma, " that if the Municipality
should throw up my fountain . . ."

The little man made an amusing gesture, and the con-
strained silence was broken by some awkward laughter.

" Roma," said the testy voice of the Countess, " I think I've
done my duty by you, and now the Baron will take me back.
Natalina! Where's Xatalina?"

But half-a-dozen hands took hold of the invalid chair, and
the Baron followed it into the bedroom.

" Wonderful man ! " " Wonderful ! " whispered various
voices, as the 3»Iinister's smile disappeared through the door.

The conversation had begun to languish when the Princess
Bellini arrived, and then suddenly it became lively and gen-
eral.

"I'm late, but do you know, my dear," she said, kissing
Roma on both cheeks, " I've been nearly torn to pieces in com-
ing. My carriage had to plough its way through crowds of
people."

" Crowds ? "

" Yes, indeed, and the streets are nearly impassable. An-
other demonstration, I suppose! The poor must always be
demonstrating."

" Ah ! yes," said Don Camillo. " Haven't you heard the
news. Roma ? "

" I've been working all night and all day, and I have heard
nothing," said Roma.

" Well, to prevent a recurrence of the disgraceful scene of
yesterday, the King has promulgated the Public Security Act
by royal decree, and the wonderful crisis is at an end."

"And now?"

240 THE ETERNAL CITY

" ISTow the Prime Minister is master of the situation, and
]ias begun by proclaiming the mass meeting which was to have
been held in the Coliseum."

" Good thing too," said Count Mario. " We've heard
enough of liberal institutions lately."

" And of the scandalous speeches of professional agitators,"
said Madame Sella.

" And of the liberty of the press," said Senator Palomba.
And then the effeminate old dandy, the fashionable dressmaker,
and the oily little Mayor exchanged significant nods.

" Wait ! Only wait ! " said Roma, in a low voice, to Rossi,
who was standing in silence by her side.

" Unhappy Italy ! " said the American Ambassador. " With
the largest array of titled nobility and the largest army of
beggars. The one class sipping iced drinks in the piazzas dur-
ing the playing of music, and the other class marching through
the streets and conspiring against society."

" You judge us from a foreign standpoint, dear friend," said
Don Camillo, " and forget our love of a pageant. The Princess
says -our poor are always demonstrating. We are all always
demonstrating. Our favourite demonstration is a funeral, with
drums beating and banners waving. If we cannot have a
funeral we have a wedding, with flowers and favours and floods
of tears. And when we cannot have either, we put up with a
revolution, and let our radical orators tell us of the wickedness
of taxing the people's bread."

" Always their bread," said the Princess, with a laugh.

" In America, dear General, you are so tragically sincere,
but in Italy we are a race of actors. The King, the Parliament,
the Pope himself . . ."

"Shocking!" said the little Princess. "But if you had
said as much of our professional agitators . . ."

" Oh, they are the most accomplished and successful actors,
Princess. But we are all actors in Italy, from the greatest
to the least, and the ' curtain ' is to him who can score off
everybody else."

" So," began the American, " to be Prime Minister in
Rome . . ." ^

"Is to be the chief actor in Europe, and his leading part
is that in which he puts an end to his adversary amidst a burst
of inextinguishable laughter."

" What is he driving at ? " said the English to the American
Ambassador.

DAVID ROSSI 241

" Don't you know ? Haven't you heard what is coming ? "
And then some further whispering.

" Wait, only wait ! " said Roma.

" Gi-gi," said the Princess, " how stupid you are ! You're
all wrong about Roma. Look at her now. To think that
men can be so blind! And the Baron is no better than
the rest of you. He's too proud to believe what I tell him,
but he'll learn the truth some day. He is here, of course?
In the Countess's room, isn't he? . . . How do you like my
dress ? "

" It's perfect."

" Really ? The black and the blue make a charming effect,
don't they ? They are the Baron's favourite colours. How agi-
tated our hostess is! She seems to have all the world here.
When are we to see the wonderful work? What's she waiting
for? Ah, there's the Baron coming out at last! "

" They're all here, aren't they ? " said Roma, looking round
with flushed cheeks and flaming eyes at the jangling, slandering
crew, who had insulted and degraded David Rossi.

" Take care," he answered, but she only threw up her head
and laughed.

Then the company went down the circular iron staircase to
the studio. Roma walked fii-st with her rapid step, talking
nervously and laughing frequently.

The fountain stood in the middle of the floor, and the
guests gathered about it.

" Superb ! " they exclaimed one after another. " Superb !
Superb ! "

The little Mayor was especially enthusiastic. He stood near
the Baron, and holding up both hands he cried :

"Marvellous! Miraculous! Fit to take its place beside
the masterpieces of old Rome ! "

" But surely this is ' Hamlet ' without the prince,'' said the
Baron. " You set out to make a fountain representing Christ
and his twelve apostles, and the only figure you leave unfinished
is Christ Himself."

He pointed to the central figure above the dish, which was
merely shaped out and indicated.

" !N^ot oidy one, your Excellency," said Don Camillo.
" Here is another unfinished figure — intended for Judas. a]i-
parently."

" I left them to the last on purpose," said Roma. " They
were so important, and so difficult. But I have studies for

242 THE ETERNAL CITY

both of them in the boudoir, and you shall give me your advice
and opinion."

" The saint and the satyr, the God and the devil, the be-
trayed and the betrayer — what subjects for the chisel of the
artist ! " said Don Camillo.

" Just so," said the Mayor. " She must do the one with
all the emotions of love, and the other with all the faculties of
hate."

" jSTot that art," said Don Camillo, " has anything to do
with life — that is to say, real life . . ."

" Why not? " said Roma, sharply. " The artist has to live
in the world, and he isn't blind. Therefore, why shouldn't he
describe what he sees around him?"

" But is that art ? If so, the artist is at liberty to give his
views on religion and politics, and by the medium of his art
he may even express his private feelings — return insults and
wreak revenge."

" Certainly he may," said Roma, " the greatest artists have
often done so." Saying this, she led the way upstairs
and the others followed, with a chorus of hypocritical ap-
proval.

" It's only human, to say the least." " Of course it is ! "
" If she's a woman and can't speak out, or fight duels, it's a
lady-like way, at all events." And then further tittering,
tapping of fans, and significant nods at Rossi when his back
was turned.

Two busts stood on pedestals in the boudoir. One of them
was covered with a damp cloth, the other with a muslin veil.
Going up to the latter first Roma said, with a slightly quaver-
ing voice :

" It was so difiicult to do justice to the Christ that I am
almost sori-y I made the attempt. But it came easier when I
began to think of some one who was being reviled and humili-
ated and degraded because he was poor and wasn't ashamed of
it, and who was always standing up for the weak and the down-
trodden, and never returning anybody's insult however shame-
ful and false and wicked, because he wasn't thinking of himself
at all. So I got the best model I could in real life and this
is the result."

With that she pulled off the muslin veil and revealed the
sculptured head of David Rossi, in a snow-white plaster cast.
The features expressed pure nobility, and every touch was a
touch of sympathy and love.

DAVID ROSSI 243

A moment of chilling silence was followed by an under-
breath of gossip. " Who is it ? " " Christ, of course." " Oh,
certainly, but it reminds me of some one." " Who can it be ? "
" The Pope ? " " Why, no ; don't you see who it is ? " " Is it
really ? " " How shameful ! " " How blasphemous ! "

Eoma stood looking on with a face lighted up by two
flaming eyes. " I'm afraid you don't think I've done justice to
my model," she said. " That's quite true. But perhaps my
Judas will please you better," and she stepped up to the bust
that was covered by the wet cloth.

" I found this a difficult subject also, and it was not until
yesterday evening that I felt able to begin on it."

Then, with a hand that trembled visibly, she took from the
wall the portrait of her father, and offering it to the Minister,
she said:

" Some one told me a story of duplicity and treachery — it
was about this poor old gentleman. Baron — and then I knew
what sort of person it was who betrayed his friend and master
for thirty pieces of silver, and listened to the hypocrisy, and
flattery, and lying of the miserable group of parasites who
crowded round him because he was a traitor, and because he
kept the purse."

With that she threw off the damp cloth, and revealed the
clay model of a head. The face was unmistakable, but it ex-
pressed every baseness — cunning, arrogance, cruelty, and sen-
suality.

The silence was freezing, and the company began to turn
away, and to mutter among themselves, in order to cover their
confusion. " It's the Baron ! " " Xo ? " " Yes." " Disgrace-
ful ! " " Disgusting ! " " Shocking ! " "A scarecrow ! "

Roma watched them for a moment, and then said : " You
don't like my Judas? Xeither do I. You're right — it is dis-
gusting."

And taking up in both hands a piece of thin wire, she cut
the clay across, and the upper part of it fell face downward with
a thud on to the floor.

The Princess, who stood by the side of the Baron, offered
him her sympathy, and he answered with his icy smile :

" But these artists are all slightly insane, you know. That
is an evil which must be patiently endured, without noticing
too much the ludicrous side of it."

Then, stepping up to Roma, and handing back the portrait,
the Baron said, with a slight frown :

244 THT2 ETERNAL CITY

" I must thank you for a very amusing afternoon, and bid
you good-day."

The others looked after him, and interpreted his departure
according to their own feelings, " He is done with her," they
whispered. " He'll pay her out for this." And without more
ado they began to follow him-.

Roma, flushed and excited, bowed to them as they went out
one by one, with a politeness that was demonstrative to the
point of caricature. She was saying farewell to them for ever,
and her face was lighted up with a look of triumphant joy.
They tried to bear themselves bravely as they passed her, but
her blazing eyes and sweeping curtseys made them feel as if
they were being turned out of the house.

When they were all gone, she shut the door with a bang, and
then turning to David Rossi, who alone remained, she burst
into a flood of hysterical tears, and threw herself on to her
knees at his feet.

XX

" David ! " she cried.

" Don't do that. Get up," he answered.

His thoughts were in a whirl. He had been standing aside,
trembling for Roma as he had never trembled for himself in
the hottest moments of his public life. And now he was alone
with her, and his blood was beating in his breast in stabs.

" Haven't I done enough ? " she cried. " You taunted me
with my wealth, but I am as poor as you are now. Every penny
I had in the world came from the Baron. He allowed me to
use part of the revenues of my father's estates, but the income
was under his control, and now he will stop it altogether. I
am in debt. I have always been in debt. That was my bene-
factor's way of reminding me of my dependence on his bounty.
And now all I have will be sold to satisfy my creditors and I
shall be turned out homeless."

" Roma . . ." he began, but her tears and passion bore
down everything.

House, furniture, presents, carriages, horses, everything
will go soon, and I shall have nothing whatever ! No matter !
You said a woman loved ease and wealth and luxury. Is that
all a woman loves? Is there nothing else in the world for
any of us ? Aren't you satisfied with me at last ? "

" Roma," he answered, breathing hard, " don't talk like that.
I cannot bear it."

DAVID ROSSI 245

But she did not listen. " You taunted me with being a
woman," she said through a fresh burst of tears. " A woman
was incapable of friendship and sacrifices. She was intended
to be a man's plaything. Do you think I want to be my hus-
band's mistress ? I want to be his wife, to share his fate, what-
ever it may be, for good or bad, for better or worse."

" For God's sake, Roma ! " he cried. But she broke in on
him again.

" You taunted me with the dangers you had to go through,
as if a woman must needs be an impediment to her husband,
and try to keep him back. Do you think I want my husband
to do nothing. If he were content with that he would not
be the man I had loved, and I should despise him and leave
him."

"Roma! . . ."

" Then you taunted me with the death that hangs over you.
When you were gone I should be left to the mercy of the
world. But that can never happen. Xever! Do you think a
woman can outlive the man she loves as I love you? . . .
There ! I've said it. You've shamed me into it."

He could not speak now. His words were choking in his
throat, and she went on in a torrent of tears:

" The death that threatens you comes from no fault of
yours, but only from your fidelity to my father. Therefore I
have a right to share it, and I will not live when you are dead."

" If I give way now," he thought, " all is over."

And clenching his hands behind his back to keep himself
from throwing his arms around her, he began in a low voice :

" Roma, you have broken your promise to me."

" I don't care," she interrupted. " I would break ten thou-
sand promises. I deceived you. I confess it. I pretended to
be reconciled to your will, and I was not reconciled. I wanted
you to see me strip myself of all I had, that you might have
no answer and excuse. Well, you have seen me do it, and now
. . . what are you going to do nowV^

" Roma," he began again, trembling all over, " there have
been two men in me all this time, and one of them has been
trying to protect you from the world and from yourself, while
the other . . . the other has been wanting you to despise all
his objections, and trample them under your feet. ... If I
could only believe that you know all you are doing, all the risk
you are running, and the fate you are willing to share . . . but
no, it is impossible."

246 THE ETERNAL CITY

" David," she cried, " you love me ! If you didn't love me, I
should know it now — at this moment. But I am braver than
you are. . . ."

" Let me go. I cannot answer for myself."

" I am braver than you are, for I have not only stripped
myself of all my possessions, and of all my friends — I have even
compromised mj'self again and again, and been daring and
audacious, and rude to everybody for your sake. ... I, a
woman . . . while you, a man . . . you are afraid . . . yes,
afraid . . . you are a coward — that's it, a coward ! . . . No, no,
no ! What am I saying ? . . . David Leone ! "

And with a cry of passion and remorse she flung both arms
about his neck.

He had stood, during this fierce struggle of love and pain,
holding himself in until his throbbing nerves could bear the
strain no longer.

" Come to me, then — come to me," he cried, and at the mo-
ment when she threw herself upon him he stretched out his
arms to receive her.

" You do love me ? " she said.

" Indeed, yes ! And you ? "

" Yes, yes, yes ! "

He clasped her in his arms with redoubled ardour, and
pressed her to his breast and kissed her. The love so long pent
up was bursting out like a liberated cataract that sweeps the
snow and the ice before it.

All at once the girl who had been so brave in the great
battle of her love became weak and womanish in the moment
of her victory. Under the warmth of his tenderness she
dropped her head on to his breast to conceal her face in her
shame.

" You will never think the worse of me ? " she faltered.

" The worse of you ! For loving me ? "

" For telling you so and forcing myself into your life ? "

" My darling, no ! "

She lifted her head, and he kissed away the tears that were
shining in her eyes.

" But tell me," he said, " are you sure — quite sure ? Do you
know what is before you ? "

" I only know I love you."

He folded her afresh in his strong embrace, and kissed her
head as it lay on his breast.

" Think again," he said. " A man's enemies can be merciless.

DAVID ROSSI 247

They may watch you and put pressure upon you, and even hu-
miliate you for my sake."

" Iso matter ! I am not afraid," she answered, and again
he tightened his amis about her in a passionate embrace, and
covered her hair and her neck and her hands and her finger-
tips with kisses.

They did not speak for a long time after that. There was
no need for words. He was conquered, yet he was conqueror,
and she was happy and at peace. The long fight was over, and
everything was well.

He put her to sit in a chair, and sat himself on the arm of
it, with his face to her face, and her arms still round his neck.
It was like a dream. She could scarcely believe it. He whom
she had looked up to with adoration was caressing her. She
was like a child in her joy, blushing and half afraid.

He ran his hand through her hair and kissed her forehead.
She threw back her head that she might put her lips to his fore-
head in return, and he kissed her full, round throat.

Then they exchanged rings as the sign of their eternal
union. When she put her diamond ring, set in gold, on to his
finger, he looked grave and even sad ; but when he put his plain
silver one on to hers, she lifted up her glorified hand to the
light, and kissed and kissed it.

They began to talk in low tones, as if some one had been lis-
tening. It was the whispering of their hearts, for the angel
of happy love has no voice louder than a whisper. She asked
him to say again that he loved her, but as soon as he began
to say it she stopped his mouth with a kiss.

They talked of their love. She was sure she had loved him
before he loved her, and when he said that he had loved her
always, she protested in that case he did not love her at all.

They talked of the pain of love. Did love always begin with
pain? Love must be a twin thing, two spirits born in different
breasts, and crying and crying until they come together. That
union was the real beginning of the love-life, and all that went
before it was but the agony of birth.

The church bells began to ring the Ave Maria, and they
closed their eyes to listen. They wanted to remember this hour
as the hour of the new birth of their love, so they clasped hands
and dreamt themselves back into silence. But through the
silence of their tongues the bells came laden with other voices.
One bell was like the voice of a happy child playing in the
morning sunshine; another bell was like the sweet voice of a

248 THE ETERNAL CITY

boy in a choir, going up, up, up to the gate of heaven ; a third
bell was like a girl's voice calling across a meadow, fresh with
the perfume of verdure and wild flowers ; a fourth was like the
voice of a sailor on the shore of a sunlit sea ; and then the far-
off boom of the big bell of St. Peter's was like the voice of the
sea itself, telling of the lovers who were lost in its depths. But
all the bells of Rome were ringing for them, and the Ave
Maria was their ov/n.

They rose at length to close the windows, and side by side,
his arm about her waist, her head leaning lightly on his shoul-
der, they stood for a moment looking out. The mother of
cities lay below in its lightsome whiteness, and over the ridge of
its encircling hills the glow of the departing sun was rising
in vaporous tints of amber and crimson into the transparent
blue, with the dome of St. Peter's, like a balloon, ready to rise
into a celestial sky.

" A storm is coming," he said, looking at the colours in the
sunset.

" It has come and gone," she whispered, and then his arm
folded closer about her waist.

It took him half-an-hour to say adieu. After the last kiss
and the last handshake, their anns would stretch out to the
utmost limit, and then close again for another and another and
yet another embrace.

XXI

When at length Rossi was gone, Roma ran into her bedroom
to look at her face in the glass. The golden complexion was
heightened by a bright spot on either cheek, and a tear-drop
was glistening in the corner of each of her eyes.

She went back to the boudoir. David Rossi was no longer
there, but the room seemed to be full of his presence. She sat
in the chair again, and again she stood by the window. At
length she opened her desk and wrote a letter:

" Dearest, — You are only half-an-hour gone, and here I am
sending this letter after you, like a handkerchief you had for-
gotten. I have one or two things to say, quite matter-of-fact
and simple things, but I cannot think of them sensibly for joy
of the certainty that you love me. Of course, I knew it all the
time, but I couldn't be at ease until I had heard it from your
own lips ; and now I feel almost afraid of my great happiness.

DAVID ROSSI 249

How wonderful it seems! Aud, like all events that are long-
expected, how suddenly it has happened m the end ! To think
that a month ago — only a little month — you and I were both in
Rome, within a mile of each other, breathing the same air,
enclosed by the same cloud, kissed by the same sunshine, and
yet we didn't know it !

" Oh, my dear, sweet sisters, jou who are living joyless and
uncaressed, don't lose heart ! Just another moment, just the
turn of a comer somewhere, and his eyes will meet yours, and
you will be happy, happy, happy !

" Soberly, though, I want you to understand that I meant
all I said so savagely about going on with your work, and not
letting your anxiety about my welfare interfere with you. I
am really one of the women who think that a wife should fur-
ther a man's aims in life if she can ; and if she can't do that, she
should stand aside and not impede him. So go on, dear heart,
without fear for me. I will take care of myself, whatever
occurs. Don't let one hour or one act of your life be troubled
by the thought of what would happen to me if you should fall.
Dearest, I am your beloved, but I am your soldier also, ready
and waiting to follow where my captain calls:

" 'Teach me, only teach, Love!
As I ought
I will speak thy speech. Love,
Think thy thought.'

" And if I was not half afraid that you would think it
bolder than is modest in your bride to be, I would go on with
the nest lines of my sweet quotation.

" Another thing. You went away without saying you for-
give me for the wicked duplicity I practised upon you. It was
very wrong, I suppose, and yet for my life I cannot get up any
real contrition on the subject. There's always some duplicity
in a woman. It is the badge of ever^- daughter of Eve, and it
must come out somewhere. In my case it came out in loving
you to all the lengths and ends of love, and drawing you on
to loving me. I ought to be ashamed, but I'm not, I'm glad.

" I did love first, and, of course, I knew you from the be-
ginning, and when you wrote about being in love with some one
else, I knew quite well you meant me. But it was so delicious
to pretend not to know, to come near and then to sheer off
again, to touch and then to fly, to tempt you and then to run
17

250 THE ETERNAL CITY

away, until a strong tide rushed at me and overwiielmed me,
and I was swooning in your arms at last.

" Dearest, don't think I made light of the obstacles you
urged against our union. I knew all the time that the risks of
marriage were serious, though perhaps I am not in a position
even yet to realise how serious they may be. Only I knew also
that the dangers were greater still if we kept apart, and that
gave me courage to be bold and to defy conventions.

" Which brings me to my last point, and please prepare to be
serious, and bend your brow to that terrible furrow which
comes when you are fearfully in earnest. What you said of
your enemies being merciless, and perhaps watching me and
putting pressure upon me to injure you, is only too imminent a
danger. The truth is that I have all along known more than
I had courage to tell, but I was hoping you would understand,
and now I tremble to think how I have suffered myself to be
silent.

" The Minghelli matter is an alarming affair, for I have
reason to believe that the man has lit on the name you bore
in England, and that when he returns to Rome he will try to
fix it upon you by means of me. This is fearful to contem-
plate, and my heart quakes to think of it. But happily there
is a way to checkmate such a devilish design, and it is within
your own power to save me from life-long remorse.

" I don't think the laws of any civilised country compel a
man's unfe to compromise him, and thinking of this gives me
courage to be unmaidenly and say : Don't let it be long, dearest !
I could die to bring it to pass in a moment. With all my great,
great happiness, I shall have the heartache until it is done, and
only when it is over shall I begin to live !

" There ! You didn't know what a forward hussy I could
be if I tried, and really I have been surprised at myself since
I began to be in love with you. For weeks and weeks I have
been thin and haggard and ugly, and only to-day I begin to be
a little beautiful. I couldn't be anything but beautiful to-day,
and I've been running to the glass to look at myself, as the only
way to understand why you love me at all. And I'm glad — ^so
glad for your sake.

" Good-bye, dearest ! You cannot come to-morrow or the
next day, and what a lot I shall have to live before I see you
again! Shall I look older? 'No, for thinking of you makes me
feel younger and younger every minute. How old are you?
Thirty-four? I'm twenty-four and a half, and that is just

DAVID ROSSI 251

right, but if you think I ought to be nearer your age I'll wear
a bonnet and fasten it with a bow. Roma.

" P.S. — Don't delay the momentous matter. Don't ! Don't !
Don't!"

She dined alone that night that she might be undisturbed in
her thoughts of Kossi. Ordinary existence had almost disap-
peared from her consciousness, and every time Felice spoke as
he sei"ved the dishes his voice seemed to come from far away.

She went to bed early, but it was late before she slept.

For a long time she lay awake to think over all that had hap-
pened, and when the night was far gone, and she tried to fall
asleep in order to dream of it also, she could not do so for sheer
delight of the prospect. But at last, amid the gathering clouds
of sleep, she said " Good-night " with the ghost of a kiss, and
slept until morning.

When she awoke it was late and the sun was shining into
the room. She lay on her back and stretched out both arms
for sheer sweetness of the sensation of health and love.
Everything was well, and she was very hai^py. Thinking of
yesterday, she was even sorry for the Baron, and told herself she
had been too bold and daring.

But that thought was gone in a moment. Body and soul
were suffused with joy, and she leapt out of bed with a spring.

A moment afterwards Natalina came with a letter. It was
from the Baron himself, and it was dated the day before :

" Minghelli has returned from London, and therefore I must
see you to-morrow at eleven o'clock. Be so good as to be at
home, and give orders that for half-an-hour at least we shall
be quite undisturbed "

Then the sun went out, the air grew dull, and darkness fell
over all the world.

PART FIYE
THE PRIME MINISTER

It was Sunday. The storm threatened by the sunset of the
day before had not yet come, but the sun was struggling
through a veil of clouds, and a black ridge was rising over the
horizon.

At eleven o'clock to the moment the Baron arrived. As
usual, he was faultlessly dressed, and he looked cool and tran-
quil.

" I am to show you into this room, Excellency," said Felice,
leading the way to the boudoir.

"Thanks! . . . Anything to tell me, Felice?"

" Nothing, Excellency," said Felice. Then, pointing to the
plaster bust on its pedestal in the corner, he added in a lower
tone, " He remained last night after the others had gone,
and . . ."

But at that moment there was the rustle of a woman's dress
outside, and, interrupting Felice, the Baron said in a high-
pitched voice :

" Certainly; and please tell the Countess I shall not forget
to look in upon her before I go."

Roma came into the room with a gloomy and firm-set face.
The smile that seemed always to play about her mouth and
eyes had given place to a slight frown and an air of defiance.
But the Baron saw in a moment that behind the lips so sternly
set, and the straight look of the eyes, there was a frightened
expression, which she was trying to conceal. lie greeted her
with his accustomed calm and naturalness, kissed her hand,
offered her the flower from his buttonhole, put her to sit in
the arm-chair with its back to the window, took his own seat on
the couch in front of it, and leisurely drew off his spotless
gloves.

253

THE PRIME MINISTER 253

Not a word about the scene of yesterday, not a look of pain
or reproof. Only a few casual pleasantries, and then a quiet
gliding into the business of his- visit.

" What an age since we were here alone before ! And what
changes you've made ! Your pretty nest is like a cell ! Well,
I've obeyed your mandate, you see. I've stayed away for a
month. It was hard to do — bitterly hard — and many a time
I've told myself it was imprudent. But you were a woman.
You were inexorable. I was forced to submit. And now, what
have you got to tell me ? "

" Xothing," she answered, looking straight before her.

" Nothing whatever ? "

" Toothing whatever."

She did not move or turn her face, and he sat for a mo-
ment watching her. Then he rose, and began to move about
the room.

" Let us understand each other, my child," he said, gent-
ly. " Will you forgive me if I recall facts that are fa-
miliar?"

She did not answer, but looked fixedly into the fire, while
he leaned on the stove and stood face to face with her.

" A month ago, a certain Deputy, an obstructionist politi-
cian, who has for years made the task of government difiicult,
uttered a seditious speech, and brought himself within the
power of the law. In that speech he also attacked me, and —
shall I say? — grossly slandered you. Parliament was not in
session, and I was able to order his arrest. In due course, he
would have been punished, perhaps by imprisonment, perhaps
by banishment, but you thought it prudent to inteiwene. You
urged reasons of policy which were wise and far-seeing. I
yielded, and to the bewilderment of my officials, I ordered the
Deputy's release. But he was not therefore to escape. You
undertook his punishment. In a subtle and more effectual way,
you were to wipe out the injury he had done, and requite him
for his offence. The man was a mystery — you were to fijid out
all about him. He was suspected of intrigue — you were to dis-
cover his conspiracies. Within a month, you were to deliver
him into my hands, and I was to know the inmost secrets of his
soul."

It was with difficulty that Eoma maintained her calmness
while the Baron was speaking, but she only shook a stray lock
of hair from her forehead, and sat silent.

" Well, the month is over. I have given you every oppor-

254 THE ETERNAL CITY

tunity to deal with our friend as you thought best. Have you
found out anything about him?"

She put on a bold front, and answered : " No."

"So your effort has failed?"

" Absolutely."

" Then you are likely to give up your plan of punishing
the man for defaming and degrading you ? "

" I have given it up already."

" Strange ! Very strange ! Very unfortunate also, for we
are at this moment at a crisis when it is doubly important to
the Government to possess the information you set out to find.
Still, your idea was a good one, and I can never be sufficiently
grateful to you for suggesting it. And although your efforts
have failed, you need not be uneasy. You have given us the
clues by which our efforts are succeeding, and you shall yet
punish the man who insulted you so publicly and so grossly."

" How is it possible for me to punish him ? "

" By identifying David Rossi as one who was condemned in
contumacy for high treason sixteen years ago."

" That is ridiculous," she said. " Sixteen months ago I
had never heard the name of David Rossi."

The Baron stooped a little and said :

" Had you ever heard the name of David Leone ? "

She dropped back in her chair, and again looked straight
before her.

" Come, come, my child," said the Baron caressingly, and
moving across the room to look out of the window, he tapped
her lightly on the shoulder.

" I told you that Minghelli had returned from London."

" That forger! " she said hoarsely.

" No doubt ! One who spends his life ferreting out crime
is apt to have the soul of a criminal. But civilisation needs
its scavengers, and it was a happy thought of yours to think of
this one. Indeed, everything we've done has been done on
your initiative, and when our friend is finally brought to jus-
tice the fact will really be due to you, and you alone."

The defiant look was disappearing from her eyes, and she
rose with an expression of pain.

" Why do you torture me like this ? " she said. " After what
has happened, isn't it quite plain that I am his friend, and
not his enemy ? "

" Perhaps," said the Baron. His face assumed a deathlike
rigidity. " Sit down and listen to me."

THE PRIME MINISTER 255

She sat down, and he j*eturned to his place by the stove.

" I say you gave us the clues we have worked upon. Thosd
clues were three. First, that David Kossi knew the life-story
of Doctor Roselli in London. Second, that he knew the story
of Doctor Roselli's daughter, Roma Roselli. Third, that he
was for a time a waiter at the Grand Hotel in Rome. Two
minor clues came independently, that David Rossi was once a
stable-boy in New York, that his mother drowned herself in
the Tiber, and he was brought up in a Foundling. By these
five clues the authorities have discovered eight facts. PeiTnit
me to recite them."

Leaning his elbow on the stove and opening his hand, the
Baron ticked off the facts one by one on his fingers.

" Fact one. Some thirty odd years ago a woman carrying
a child presented herself at the office in Rome for the registry
of births. She gave the name of Leonora Leone, and wished
her child, a boy, to be registered as David Leone. But the
officer in attendance discovered that the woman's name was
Leonora Rossi, and that she had been married according to the
religious rites of the Church but not according to the civil
regulations of the State. The child was therefore registered as
David Rossi, son of Leonora Rossi and of a father unknown."

" Shameful ! " cried Roma. " Shameful ! Shameful ! "

" Fact two," said the Baron, without the change of a tone.
" One night a little later the body of a woman found drowned
in the Tiber was recognised as the body of Leonora Rossi, and
buried in the pauper part of the Campo Verano under that
name. The same night a child was placed by an unknown hand
in the rota of Santo Spirito, with a paper attached to its wrist,
giving particulars of its baptism and its name. Its name was
David Leone."

The Baron ticked off the third of his fingers and continued :

" Fact three. Fourteen years afterwards a boy named
David Leone, fourteen years of age, was living in the house of
an Italian exile in London. The exile was a Roman prince
under the incognito of Doctor Roselli ; his family consisted of
his wife and one child, a daughter named Roma, four years of
age. David Leone had been adopted by Doctor Roselli, who
had picked him up in the street."

Roma covered her face with her hands.

" Fact four. Four years later a conspiracy to assassinate
the King of Italy was discovered at Milan. The chief con-
spirator turned out to be, unfortunately, the English exile.

256 THE ETERNAL CITY

known as Doctor Roselli. By the good offices of a kinsman,
jealous of the honour of his true family name, he was not
brought to public trial, but deported by one of the means
adopted by all Governments when secrecy or safety are in ques-
tion. But his confederates and correspondents were shown
less favour, and one of them, still in England, being tried in
contumacy by a military court which sat during a state of
siege, was condemned for high treason to the military punish-
ment of death. The name of that confederate and correspond-
ent was David Leone."

Roma's slippered foot was beating the floor fast, but the
Baron went on in his cool and tranquil tone.

" Fact five. Our extradition treaty excluded the delivery of
political offenders, btit after representations from Italy, David
Leone left England. He went to America. There he was first
employed in the stables of the Tramway Company in New
York, and lived in the Italian quarter of the city, but after-
wards he rose out of his poverty and low position, and became a
journalist. In that character he attracted attention by a new
political and religious propaganda. Jesus Christ was law-giver
for the nation as well as for the individual, and the redemp-
tion of the world was to be brought to pass by a constitution
based on the precepts of the Lord's Prayei*. The creed was suf-
ficiently sentimental to be seized upon by fanatics in that coun-
try of countless faiths, but it cut at the roots of order, of
property, even of patriotism, and being interpreted into action
seemed likely to lead to riot."

The Baron twisted the ends of his moustache, and said, with
a smile : " David Leone disappeared from ISTew York. From
that time forward no trace of him has yet been found. He was
as much gone as if he had ceased to exist. David Leone was
dead."

Roma's hands had come down from her face, and she was
picking at the buttons of her blouse with twitching fingers.

" Fact six," said the Baron, ticking off the thumb of his
other hand. " Twenty-five or six years after the registration of
the child David Rossi in Rome, a man, apparently twenty-five
or six years of age, giving the name of David Rossi, arrived in
England from America. He called at a baker's shop in Soho
to ask for Roma Roselli, the daughter of Doctor Roselli, left
behind In London when the exile returned to Italy. They told
him that Roma Roselli was dead and buried."

Roma's face, which had been pale until now, began to glow

THE PRIME MINISTER 257

like a fire on a gloomy night, and her foot beat faster and
faster.

" Fact seven. David Rossi appeared in Rome, first as a
waiter at the Grand Hotel, but soon afterwards as a journalist
and public lecturer, propounding precisely the same propa-
ganda as that of David Leone in New York, and exciting the
same interest."

"Well? What of it?" said Roma. "David Leone was
David Leone, and David Rossi is David Rossi — there is no more
in it than that."

The Baron clasped his hands so tight that his knuckles
cracked, and said, in a slightly exalted tone :

" Eighth and last fact. About that time a man called at the
office of the Campo Santo to know where he was to find the
grave of Leonora Leone, the woman who had drowned herself
in the Tiber twenty-six years before. The pauper trench had
been dug up over and over again in the interval, but the officials
gave him their record of the place where she had once been
buried. He had the spot measured off for him, and he went
down on his knees before it. Hours passed, and he was still
kneeling there. At length night fell, and the officers had to
warn him away."

Roma's foot had ceased to beat on the floor, and she was
rising in her chair.

" That man," said the Baron, " the only human being who
ever thought it worth while to look up the grave of the poor
suicide, Leonora Rossi, the mother of David Leone, was David
Rossi. Who was David Leone ? — David Rossi ! Who was
David Rossi? — David Leone! The circle had closed around
him — the evidence was complete."

"Oh! Oh! Oh!"

Roma had leapt up and was walking about the room. Her
lips were compressed with scorn, her eyes were flashing, and she
burst into a torrent of words, which spluttered out of her
quivering lips.

" Oh, to think of it ! To think of it ! You are right ! The
man who spends his life looking for crime must have the soul
of a criminal ! He has no conscience, no humanity, no mercy,
no pity. And when he has tracked and dogged a man to his
mother's grave — his mother's grave — he can dine, he can laugh,
he can go to the theatre! Oh, I cannot endure you! I hate
you ! There, I've told you ! T^ow, do with me as you please ! "

The deathlike rigidity in the Baron's face decomposed into

258 THE ETERNAL CITY

an expression of intense pain, but he only passed his hand over
his brow, and said, after a moment of silence :

" My child, you are not only offending me, you are offending
the theory and principle of Justice. Justice has nothing to do
with pity. In the vocabulary of Justice, there is but one word
—duty. Duty called upon me to fix this man's name upon him,
that his obstructions, his slanders, and his evil influence may
be at an end. And now Justice calls upon you to do the
same."

The Baron leaned against the stove, and spoke in a calm
voice, while Koma, in her agitation, continued to walk about
the room.

" Being a Deputy, and Parliament being in session, David
Rossi can only be arrested by the authorisation of the Chamber.
In order to obtain that authorisation, it is necessary that the
Attorney-General should draw up a statement of the case. The
statement must be presented by the Attorney-General to the
Government, by the Government to the President, by the Presi-
dent to a Committee, and by the Committee to Parliament.
Towards this statement the police have already obtained im-
portant testimony, and a complete chain of circumstantial evi-
dence has been prepared. But they lack one link of positive
proof, and until that link is obtained, the Attorney-General is
unable to proceed. It is the keystone of the arch, the central
fact, without which all other facts fall to pieces — the testimony
of somebody who can swear, if need be, that she knew both
David Leone and David Rossi, and can identify the one with
the other."

"Well?"

The Baron, who had stopped, continued in a calm voice:
" My dear Roma, need I go on ? Dead as a Minister is to all
sensibility, I had hoped to spare you. T|;iere is only one person
known to me who can supply that link. That person is your-
self."

Roma's eyes were red with anger and terror, but she tried to
laugh over her fear.

" How simple you are, after all ! " she said. " It was Roma
Rosclli who knew David Leone, wasn't it? Well, Roma Roselli
is dead and buried. Oh, I know all the story. You did that
yourself, and now it cuts the ground from under you."

" My dear Roma," said the Baron, with a hard and angry
face, " if I did anything in that matter it was done for your
welfare, but whatever it was, it need not disturb me now.

THE PRIME MINISTER 259

Roma Eoselli is not dead, and it would be easy to bring people
from England to say so."

"You daren't! You know you daren't! It would expose
them to persecution for perpetrating a crime."

" In England, not in Italy."

Roma's red eyes fell, and the Baron began to speak in a
caressing voice.

" My child, don't fence with me. It is so painful to silence
you. ... It is perhaps natural that you should sympathise
Avith the weaker side. That is the sweet and tender if illogi-
cal way of all women. But you must not imagine that when
David Rossi has been arrested ho will be walked off to his death.
As a matter of fact, he must go through a new trial, he must be
defended, his sentence must in any case be reduced to imprison-
ment, and it may even be wiped out altogether. That's all."

" All ? And you ask me to help you to do that ? "

" Certainly."

" I won't ! "

" Then you could if you would ? "

"I can't!

" Your first word was the better one, my child."

" Very well, I won't ! I won't ! Aren't you ashamed to
ask me to do such a thing? According to your own story,
David Leone was my father's friend, yet you wish me to give
him up to the law that he may be imprisoned, perhaps for life,
and at least turned out of Parliament. Do you suppose I am
capable of treachery like that ? Do you judge of everybody by
yourself? . . . Ah, I know that story, too! For shame! For
shame ! "

The Baron was silent for a moment, and then said in an
impressive voice :

" I will not discuss that subject with you now, my child—
you are excited, and don't quite know what yovi are saying. I
will only point out to you that even if David Leone was your
father's friend, David Rossi was your own enemy."

" What of that ? It's my own affair, isn't it ? If I choose to
forgive him, what matter is it to anybody else? I do forgive
him ! Now, whose business is it except my own ? "

" My dear Roma, I might tell you that it's mine also, and
that the insult that went through you was aimed at me. But
I will not speak of myself. . . . That you should change your
plans so entirely, and setting out a month ago to . . . to . . .
shall I say betray . . . this man Rossi, you are now striving to

2G0 THE ETERNAL CITY

save him, is a fact which admits of only one explanation, and
that is that . . . that you . . ."

" That I love him — yes, that's the truth," said Roma boldly,
but flushing up to the eyes and trembling with fear.

There was a deathlike pause in the duel. Both dropped
their heads, and the silent face in the bust seemed to be looking
down on them. Then the Baron's icy cheeks quivered visibly,
and he said in a low, hoarse voice:

" I'm sorry ! Very sorry ! For in that case I may be com-
pelled to justify your conclusion that a Minister has no human-
ity and no pity. It may even be necessary to play the part of
the husband in the cruel stor'y of the lover's heart. If David
Rossi cannot be arrested by the authorisation of Parliament he
must be arrested when Parliament is not in session, and then
liis identity will have to be established in a public tribunal. In
that event you will be forced to appear, and having refused to
make a private statement in the secrecy of a magistrate's office,
you will be compelled to testify in the Court of Assize."

"Ah, but you can't make me do that ! " cried Roma excit-
edly, as if seized by a sudden thought.

"Why not?"

" Never mind why not. That's my secret. You can't do it,
I tell you," she cried excitedly.

He looked at her as if trying to penetrate her meaning, and
then said :

" We shall see."

At that moment the fretful voice of the Countess was
heard calling to the Baron from the adjoining room.

II

Roma went to her bedroom when the Baron left her, and
remained there until late in the afternoon. In spite of the bold
front she had put on, she was quaking with terror, and tortured
by remorse. ISTever before had she realised David Rossi's peril
with such awful vividness, and seen her own position in rela-
tion to him with such hideous nakedness.

Was it her duty to confess to David Rossi that at the begin-
ning of their friendship she had set out to betray him ? Only so
could she be secure, only so could she be honest, only so could
she be true to the love he gave her and the trust he reposed
in her.

THE PRIME MINISTER 261

Yet why should she confess ? The abominable impulse was
gone. Something sweet and tender had taken its place. To con-
fess to him now would be cruel. It would wound his beautiful
faith in her.

And yet the seeds she had sown were beginning to fructify.
They might spring up anj-where at any moment, and choke the
life that was dearer to her than her own. Thank God, it was
still impossible to injure him except by her will and assistance.
But her will might be broken and her assistance might be
forced, unless the law could be invoked to protect her against
itself. It could and it should be invoked ! When she was mar-
ried to David Kossi no law in Italy would compel her to witness
against him.

But if Kossi hesitated from any cause, if he delayed their
marriage, if he replied unfavourable to the letter in which she
had put aside all modesty and asked him to marry her soon —
what then ? How was she to explain his danger ? How was she
to tell him that he must marry her before Parliament rose, or
she might be the means of expelling him from the Chamber,
and perhaps casting him into prison for life? How was she
to say : " I was Delilah, I set out to betray you, and unless you
marry me the wicked work is done ! "

The afternoon was far spent, she had eaten nothing since
morning, and was lying face down on the bed, when a knock
came to the door.

" The person in the studio to see you," said Felice.

It was Bruno in Sunday attire, with little Joseph in top-
boots, and more than ever like the cub of a young lion.

" A letter from him, miss," said Bruno.

It was from Rossi. She took it without a word of greeting,
and went back to her bedroom. But when she returned a
moment afterwards, her face was transformed. The clouds had
gone from it, and the old radisnce had returned. All the
brightness and gaiety of her usual expression were there as she
came swinging into the drawing-room, and filling the air with
the glow of health and happiness.

" That's all right," she said. " Tell :Mr. Rossi I shall expect
to see him soon ... or no, don't say that . . . say that as he
is over head and ears in work this week he is not to think it
necessary. . . . Oh, say anything you like," she said, and the
pearly teeth and lovely eyes broke into an aurora of smiles.

Bruno, whose bushy face and shaggy head had never once
been raised since he came into the room, said :

262 THE ETERNAL CITY

" He's busy enough, anyway — what with this big meeting
coming off on Wednesday, and the stairs to his rooms as full
of people as the Santa Scala."

" So you've brought little Joseph to see me at last ? " said
Roma.

" He has bothered my life out to bring him, ever since you
said he was to be your porter some day."

" And why not ? Gentlemen ought to call on the ladies,
oughtn't they, Joseph ? "

And Joseph, whose curly poll had been hiding behind the
leg of his father's trousers, showed half of a face that was
shining all over.

" Listen ! " said Roma, with a merry twinkle. A band of
music was going through the piazza on its way home from the
Pincian gardens. " Let us go and look at them," said Roma,
and, taking hold of Joseph's hand, she skipped off with him to
her boudoir, and put him to stand on the writing-desk in front
of the window.

" It's the ' Royal March,' isn't it, Joseph ? You know the
* Royal March ' ? Of course you do ! And look at the people,
and the priests, and the monks, and the students, and the car-
riages, and the dogs, and the perambulators, and the motor-
cars, and the babies and the nurses, and the little boys and girls.
Beautiful ! Isn't it beautiful ? But, see ! See here — do you
know who this is? This gentleman in the bust? "

" Uncle David," said the boy.

" What a clever boy you are, Joseph ! "

" Doesn't want much cleverness to know that, though," said
Brvnio, from the door. "It's wonderful! It's magnificent!
And it will shut up all their damned . . . excuse me, miss,
excuse me."

" And Joseph still intends to be a porter ? "

" Dead set on it, and says he wouldn't change his profes-
sion to be a king."

" Quite right, too ! And now let us look at something a little
birdie brought me the other day. Come along, Joseph. Here
it is ! Down on your knees, gentleman, and help me drag it
out. One^two — and away ! "

From the knee-hole of the desk came a large cardboard box,
and Joseph's eyes glistened like big black beads.

" i^ow, what do you think is in this box, Joseph ? Can't
guess? Give it up? Sure? Well, listen! Are you listening?
Which do you think you would like best — a porter's cocked

THE PHIME MINISTER 263

hat, or a porter's long coat, or a porter's mace with a gilt head
and a tassel ? "

Joseph's face, which had gleamed at every item, clouded and
cleared, cleared and clouded at the cruel difficulty of choice,
and finally looked over at Bruno for help.

" Choose now — which ? "

But Joseph only sidled over to his father and whispered
something which Roma could not hear.

" What docs he say ? "

" He says it is his birthday on Wednesday," said Bruno.

" Bless him ! He shall have them all, then," said Koma, and
Joseph's legs, as well as his eyes, began to dance.

The cords were cut, the box was opened, the wonderful hat
and coat and mace were taken out, and Joseph was duly in-
vested. In the midst of this ceremony Roma's black poodle came
bounding into the room, and when Joseph strutted out of the
boudoir into the drawing-room the dog went leaping and bark-
ing beside him.

" Dear little soul ! " said Roma, looking after the child ; but
Bruno, who was sitting with his head down, only answered with
a groan.

Roma looked at him, and saw for the first time that his
simple face was troubled. It bore an expression of almost
comical sadness, and his dog's ej'es were wet and gloomy.

" What is the matter, Bruno ? " she asked.

He brushed his coat-sleeve across his eyes, set his teeth,
and said with a savage fierceness :

" What's the matter ? Treason's the matter, telling tales and
taking away a good woman's character — that's what is the mat-
ter ! A man who has been eating your bread for years has been
lying about you, and he is a rascal and a sneak and a damned
scoundrel, and I would like to kick him out of the house."

" And who has been doing all this, Bruno ? "

" Myself. It was I who told Mr. Rossi the lies that made
him speak against you on the day of the Pope's Jubilee, and
when 5^ou asked him to come here I warned him against you,
and said you were only going to pay him back and ruin him."

" So you said that, did you? "

" Yes, I did."

" And what did Mr. Rossi say to yoii ? "

" Say to me? I wonder he didn't kill me. ' She's a good
woman,' says he, ' and if I have ever said otherwise, I take it
all back, and am ashamed.' "

204 THE ETERNAL CITY

"He said that, did he?"

" He did. But the devil was in me, and I wasn't convinced.
Only yesterday I told him not to come to your reception, be-
cause I had seen your bust the morning you began, and it was a
caricature, and meant for Judas."

" And what did Mr. Kossi say to that? "

" ' Bruno,' he said, ' if Donna Koma had used my head for
Satan I should believe in her the same as ever.' And now you
are heaping coals of fire on me, and I can't bear it, and I won't."

Roma, who had turned to the window, heaved a sigh and
said : " It has all come out right in the end, Bruno. If you
hadn't spoken against me to Mr. Rossi, he wouldn't have spoken
against me in the piazza, and then he and I should never have
met and known each other and been friends. All's well that
ends well, you know."

" Perhaps so, but the miracle doesn't make the saint, and
you oughtn't to keep me any longer."

" Do you mean that I ought to dismiss you ? "

" Yes."

" Bruno," said Roma, " I am in trouble just now, and I may
be in worse trouble by and by. I am to be poor, and my enemies
are going to be cruel and merciless. I don't know how long I
may be able to keep you as a servant, but I may want you as a
friend, and if you leave me now . . ."

" Oh, put it like that, miss, and I'll never leave you, and as
for enemies . . ."

Bruno was doubling up the sleeve of his right arm, when
Joseph and the poodle came back to the room. Roma received
them with a merry cry, and there was much noise and laughter.
At length the gorgeous garments were taken off, the cardboard
box was corded, and Bruno and the boy prepared to go.

" You'll come again, won't you, Joseph ? " said Roma, and
the boy's face beamed.

" I suppose this little man means a good deal to you,
Bruno ? "

" Everything," said Bruno. " God bless the little imps,
what would a man be without children? Five francs a week
richer in pocket and a million a minute poorer in pleasure.
Taking his ease instead of easing their little aches, sleeping at
nights instead of stumping about the bedroom in his slippers,
but with a heart as hard as a gizzard and a soul as dry as dust.
Isn't that so, Joseph-Mazzini-Garibaldi ? "

" And his mother? "

THE PRIME MINISTER 265

" Oh, she ! She's crazy ! I do believe she'd die, or disappear,
or drown herself if anything happened to that boy."

"And Mr. Rossi?"

" He's been a second father to the boy ever since the young
monkey was born."

" Well, Joseph must come here sometimes, and let me try to
be a second mother to him, too. . . . What is he saying now ? "

Joseph had dragged down his father's head to whisper some-
thing in his ear.

" He says he's frightened of your big porter downstairs."

" Frightened of him ! He is only a man, my precious ! Tell
him you are a little Roman boy, and he'll have to let you up.
Will you remember ? You will ? That's right ! By-bye ! "

Before going to sleep that night, Roma switched on the
light that hung above her head and read her letter again. She
had been hoarding it up for that secret hour, and now she was
alone with it, and all the world was still.

•' Saturday Night.
" My Dear One, — Tour sweet letter brought me the intoxi-
cation of delight, and the momentous matter you speak of is
under weigh. It is my turn to be ashamed of all the great to-do
I made about the obstacles to our union when I see how
courageous you can be. Oh, how brave women are — all women
— eveiy woman who ever raarries a man ! To take her heart
into her hands, and face the unknown in the fate of another
being, to trust her life into his keeping, knowing that if he
falls she falls too, and will never be the same again ! What
man could do it ? Xot one who was ever born into the world.
Yet some woman does it every day, promising some man that
she will — let me finish your quotation —

" 'Meet, if thou require it,
Both demands,
Laying flesh and spirit
In thy hands.'

" Dearest, I have got the better of our bargain, and if I held
off it was partly because I knew it must be so. But what chil-
dren we are, men and women who love each other, standing
aloof with a shy fear of each other, when we should join hands
and play. I wanted you eveiy moment, and it was terrible to
have the dearest thing in the world within one's reach and feel
compelled to put it away. But that is all over now. I am going
18

266 THE ETERNAL CITY

to live at last, to face the world with a new front, and to leave
the future in the hands of God.

" Don't think I am too much troubled about the Minghelli
matter, and yet it is pitiful to think how merciless the world
can be even in the matter of a man's name. A name is only a
word, but it is everything to the man who bears it — ^honour
or dishonour, poverty or Avealth, a blessing or a curse. If it is
a good name, everybody tries to take it away from him, but if
it's a bad name and he has attempted to drop it, everybody tries
to fix it on him afresh.

" The name I was compelled to leave behind me when I re-
turned to Italy, was a bad name in nothing except that it was
the name of my father, and if the spies and ferrets of authority
ever fix it upon me, God only knows what mischief they may do.
But one thing / know — that if they do fix my father's name
upon me, and bring me to the penalties which the law has im-
posed on it, it will not be by help of my darling, my beloved, my
brave, brave girl with the heart of gold.

" Dearest, I wrote to the Capitol immediately on receiving
your letter, and to-morrow morning I will go down myself to
see that everything is in train. I don't yet know how many
days are necessary to the preparations, but earlier than Thurs-
day it would not be wise to fix the event, seeing that Wednes-
day is the day of the great mass meeting in the Coliseum, and,
although the police have proclaimed it, I have told the people
they are to come. There is some risk at the outset, which it
would be reckless to run, and in any case, the time is short.

" Good-night ! I can't take my pen off the paper. Writing
to you is like talking to you, and every now and then I stop
and shut my eyes, and hear your voice replying. Only it is
myself who make the answers, and they are not half so sweet as
they would be in reality. Ah, dear heart, if you only knew
how my life was full of silence until you came into it, and now
it is full of music ! Good-night, again ! D. E.

" Sunday Morning.

" Just returned from the Capitol. The legal notice for the
celebration of a marriage is longer than I expected. It seems
that the ordinary term is twelve days at least, covering two suc-
cessive Sundays (on which the act of publication is posted on
the board outside the office) and three d^ys over. For grave
and extreme reasons, one of these Sundays, or even both, may be
dispensed with, but I saw no ground on which we could swear

THE PRIME MINISTER 267

before a magistrate that our ease was as urgent as death, so I
submitted to the usual regularity, furnished the necessary par-
ticulars, and the first of our banns has been published to-day.
Only twelve days more, my dear one, and you will be mine,
mine, mine, and all the world will know ! "

It took Roma a good three-quarters of an hour to read this
letter, for nearly eveiy other word seemed to be written out of a
lover's lexicon, which bore secret meanings of delicious import
and imperiously demanded their physical response from the
reader's lips. At length she put it between the pillow and her
cheek, to help the sweet delusion that she was cheek to cheek
with some one and had his strong, protecting arms about her.
Then she lay a long time, with eyes open and shining in the
darkness, trying in vain*to piece together the features of his
face. But in the first dream of her first sleep she saw him
plainly, and she ran, she raced, she rushed to his embrace.

Next day brought a message from the Baron.

" Dear RoiL\, — Come to the Palazzo Braschi to-morrow
(Tuesday) morning at eleven o'clock. Don't refuse, and don't
hesitate. If you do not come, you will regret it as long as you
live, and reproach yourself for ever afterwards. — Yours,

" BOXELLI."

ni

The Palazzo Braschi is a triangular palace, whereof one
front faces to the Piazza Navona and the two other fronts to
side streets. A magnificent staircase, with sixteen columns
of Oriental granite, six colossal statues, and a narrow rivulet
of frayed and dirty druggetting meandering up its marble
steps, leads to a cheerless hall on the topmost storey, where mes-
sengers and porters sit and lounge in untidy uniforms. This
is the entrance to the cabinet of the Minister of the Interior,
usually the President of the Council and Prime Minister
of Italy.

Eoma arrived at eleven o'clock, and was taken to the Min-
ister's room immediately, by way of an outer chamber, in which
colleagues and secretaries were waiting their turn for an in-
terview. The Baron was seated at a table covered with books
and papers. There was a fur rug across his knees, and at his
right hand lay a small ivory-handled revolver. He rose as
Roma entered, and received her with his glacial politeness.

268 THE ETERNAL CITY

" How prompt ! And how sweet you look to-day, my child !
On a cheerless day like this you bring the sun itself into a poor
Minister's gloomy cabinet. That simple black and white hat is
charming. Sit down."

Roma was not deceived by the false accent of his wel-
come.

" You wished to see me ? " she said.

He rested his elbow on the table, leaned his head on his
hand, looked at her with his never-varying smile, and said:

" I hear you are to be congratulated, my dear."

She changed colour slightly.

"Are you surprised that I know?" he asked.

" Why should I be surprised ? " she answered. " You know
everything. Besides, this is published at the Capitol, and
therefore common knowledge."

His smiling face remained perfectly impassive.

" iSTow I understand what you meant on Sunday. It is a
fact that a wife cannot be called as a witness against her hus-
band. I am beaten. I confess it, and I congratulate you on
your acuteness."

She knew he was watching her face as if looking into the
inmost recesses of her soul.

" But isn't it a little courageous of you to think of mar-
riage ? "

" Why courageous ? " she asked, but her eyes fell and the
colour mounted to her cheek.

" Why courageous ? " he repeated.

He allowed a short time to elapse, and then he said in a low
tone, " Considering the past, and all that has happened . . ."

Her eyelids trembled and she rose to her feet.

" If this is all you wished to say to me . . ."

" ]S[o, no ! Sit down, my child. I sent for you in order to
show you that the marriage you contemplate may be difficult,
perhaps impossible."

" I am of age — there can be no impediment."

" There may be the greatest of all impediments, my dear."

" What do you mean ? "

" I mean . . . but wait ! You are not in a hurry ? A num-
ber of gentlemen are waiting to see me, and if you will permit
me to ring for my secretary . . . Don't move. Colleagues
merely! They will not object to 2/0 wr presence. My ward, you
know — almost a member of my own household. Ah, here is the
secretary. Who now ? "

THE PRIME MINISTER 269

" The Minister of War, the Prefect, Commendatore An-
gelelli and one of his delegates," replied the secretary.

" Bring the Prefect first," said the Baron, and a severe
looking man of military bearing entered the room.

" Come in, Senator. You know Donna Roma. Our busi-
ness is urgent — she will allow us to go on. I am anxious to
hear how things stand and what you are doing."

The Prefect began on his report. Immediately the new
law was promulgated by royal decree he had sent out a circular
to all the ^ilayors in his province, stating the powers it gave the
police to dissolve associations and to forbid public meetings.

" But what can we expect to do in the provincial towns,
your Excellency, while in the capital we are doing nothing?
The chief of all subversive societies is in Rome, and the di-
recting mind is at large among ourselves. Listen to this, sir."

The Prefect took a newspaper from his pocket and began
to read :

"Romans, The new decree law is an attempt to deprive us of lib-
erties which our fathers made revolutions to establish. It is, there-
fore, our duty to resist it, and to this end we must hold our meeting
on the first of February according to our original intention. Only
thus can we show the Government and the King what it is to oppose
the public opinion of the tvorld. . . . Jfeet in the Piazza del Pop)olo
at sundown and tvalJc to the Coliseum by way of the Corso. Be
peaceful and orderly, and God put it into the hearts of your rulers to
avert bloodshed."

" That is from the Sunrise? "

" Yes, sir, the last of many manifestoes. And what is the
result? The people are flocking into Rome from every part
of the province."

" And how many political pilgrims are here already ? "

" Fifty thousand, sixty, perhaps a hundred thousand. It
cannot be allowed to go on, your Excellency."

" It is a levee-en-masse certainly. "What do you advise? "

" First, that the Svnrise be sequestered."

" We'll speak of that presently. Xext ? "

" Next, that the correspondents of foreign newspapers who
send false inventions and exaggerations abroad be delicately
conducted over the frontier."

"And next?"

" That the enemies of the Government and the State, whose

270 THE ETERNAL CITY

erroneous conceptions of liberty have led to this burst of
anarchist feeling, be left to the operation of the police laws."

The Baron glanced at Roma. Her face was flushed, and her
eyes were flashing.

" That," he said, " may be difficult, considering the num-
ber of the discontented. What is the strength of your police ? "

" Seven hundred in uniform, four hundred in plain clothes,
and five hundred and fifty municipal guards. Besides these,
sir, there are three thousand Carabineers and eight thousand
troops."

" Say twelve thousand five hundred armed men in all?"

" Precisely, and what is that against fifty, a hundred, per-
haps a hundred and fifty thousand people ? "

" You want the army at call ? "

" Exactly, but above everything else we want the permis-
sion of the Government to deal with the greater delinquents,
whether deputies or not, according to the powers given us
by the Statute."

The Baron rose and held out his hand. " Thanks, Senator !
The Government will consider your suggestions immediately.
Be good enough to send in my colleague, the Minister of War."

When the Prefect left the room Roma rose to go.

" You cannot suppose this is very agreeable to me ? " she
said, in an agitated voice.

" Wait ! I shall not be long. . . . Ah, General Morra !
Roma, you know the General, I think. Sit down, both of
you . . . Well, General, you hear of this levee-en-masse? "

" I do."

" The Prefect is satisfied that the people are moved by a
revolutionary organisation, and he is anxious to know what
force we can put at his service to control it."

The General detailed his resources. There were sixteen
thousand men always under arms in Rome, and the War Office
had called up the old timers of two successive years — perhaps
fifty thousand in all.

" As a Minister of State and your colleague," said the Gen-
eral, " I am at one with you in your desire to safeguard the
cause of order and to protect public institutions, but as a man
and a Roman I cannot but hope that you will not call upon
me to act without the conditions required by law."

" Indeed, no," said the Baron, " and in order to make sure
that our instructions are carried out with wisdom and hu-
manity, let these be the orders you issue to your staff: First,

THE PlilME MINISTER 271

that in case of disturbance to-morrow night, whether at the
Coliseum or elsewhere, the officers must wait for the proper
signal from the delegate of police."

"Good!"

" IText, that on receiving the order to fire, the soldiers must
be careful that their first volley goes over the heads of the
people."

" ExceUent ! "

" If that does not disperse the crowds, if they throw stones
on the soldiers or otherwise resist, the second volley — I see no
help for it— the second volley, I say, must be fired at the per-
sons who are leading on the ignorant and deluded mob."

" Ah ! "

The General hesitated, and Roma, whose breathing came
quick and short, gave him a look of tenderness and gratitude.

" You agree, General Morra ? "

" I'm afraid I see no alternative. But if the blood of their
leader only infuriates the people, is the third volley . . ."

" That," said the Baron, " is a contingency too terrible to
contemplate. My prediction would be that when their leader
falls, the poor misguided people will fly. But in all human
enterprises the last w^ord has to be left to destiny. Let us leave
it to destiny in the present instance. Adieu, dear General !
Be good enough to tell my secretary to send in the Chief of
Police."

The Minister of War left the room, and once more Roma
rose to go.

" You cannot possibly imagine that a conversation like
this ..." she began, but the Baron only interrupted her
again.

" Don't go yet. I shall be finished presently. Angelelli can-
not keep me more than a moment. Ah, here is the Commenda-
tore."

The Chief of Police came bowing and bobbing at every
step, with the extravagant politeness which differentiates the
vulgar man from the well-bred.

" About this meeting at the Coliseum, Commendatore —
has any authorisation been asked for it ? "

" None whatever, your Excellency."

" Then we may properly regard it as seditious ? "

" Quite properly, your Excellency."

" Listen ! You will put yourself into communication with
the Minister of War immediately. He will place fifty thou-

27^ THE ETEENAL CITY

sand men at the disposition of your Prefect. Choose your dele-
gates carefully. Instruct them well. At the first overt act of
resistance, let them give the word to fire. After that, leave
everything to the military."

" Quite so, your Excellency."

" Be careful to keej) yourself in touch with me until mid-
night to-morrow. It may be necessary to declare a state of
siege, and in that event the royal decree will have to be ob-
tained without delay. Prepare your own staff for a general
order. Ask for the use of the cannon of St. Angelo as a sig-
nal, and let it be understood that if the gun is fired to-morrow
night every gate of the city is to be closed, every outward
train is to be stopped, and every telegraph office is to be put
under control. You understand me?"

" Perfectly, Excellency."

" After the signal has been given let no one leave the city,
and let no telegraphic message of any kind be despatched. In
short, let Rome from that hour onward be entirely under the
control of the Government."

" Entirely, your Excellency."

" The military have already received their orders. After
the call of the delegate of police, the first volley is to be fired
over the heads of the people and the second at the ringleaders
and chief rioters. But if any of these should escape . . ."

The Baron paused, and then repeated in a low tone with the
utmost deliberation :

" I say, if any of these should escape, Commendatore , . ."

" They shall not escape, your Excellency."

There was a moment of profound silence, in which Roma
felt herself to be suffocating, and could scarcely restrain the
cry that was rising in her throat.

" Let me go," she said, when the Chief of Police had backed
and bowed himself out ; but again the Baron pretended to mis-
understand her.

" Only one more visitor ! I shall be finished in a few
minutes," and then Charles Minghelli was shown into the
room.

The man's watchful eyes blinked perceptibly as he came
face to face with Roma ; but he recovered himself in a mo-
ment, and began to brush with his fingers the breast of his
frock-coat.

" Sit down, Minghelli. You may speak freely before Donna
Roma. You owe your position to her generous influence, you

THE PRIME MINISTER 273

may remember, and she is abreast of all our business. You've
seen the Attorney-General again ? "

" Yes, sir."

" And what is his decision ? "

" The same as before. He declines to ask Parliament for
the arrest of a Deputy until he is in a position to complete an
instruction that will satisfy his conscience and the law."

" Very well ! In that case we must find some other means
of overtaking the delinquents who, though guilty, are pro-
tected by their privilege. . . . You know all about this meet-
ing at the Coliseum ? "

Minghelli bent his head.

" The delegates of police have received the strictest orders
not to give the word to the military until an overt act of- re-
sistance has been committed. That is necessary as well for the
safety of our poor, deluded people as for our own credit in the
eyes of the world. But an act of rebellion in such a case is a
little thing, Mr. Minghelli."

Again Minghelli bent his head.

" A blow, a shot, a shower of stones, and the peace is broken
and the delegate is justified."

A third time Minghelli bent his head.

" Unfortunately, in the sorrowful circumstances in which
the city is placed an overt act of resistance is quite sure to be
committed."

Minghelli flecked a speck of dust from his spotless cuff
and said :

" Quite sure, your Excellency."

There was another moment of profound silence in which
Roma ielt her heart beat violently.

" Adieu, Mr. Minghelli. Tell my secretary as you pass out
that I wish to dictate a letter."

The letter was to the Minister of Foreign Affairs.

" Dear colleague," dictated the Baron. " I entirely ap-
prove of the proposal you have made to the Governments of
Europe and America to establish a basis on which anarchists
should be suppressed by means of an international net through
which they can with difficulty escape. My suggestion would
be the universal application of the Belgian clause in all exist-
ing extradition treaties, whereby persons guilty of regicide
may be dealt with as common murderers. In any case please
say that the Government of Italy intends to do its duty to the
civilised world, and will look to the Governments of other

274 THE ETERNAL CITY

countries to allow it to follow up and arrest the criminals who
are attempting to reconstruct society by burying it under
ruins."

Notwithstanding all her efforts to appear calm, Roma felt
as if she must go out into the streets and scream. Now she
knew why she had been sent for. It was in order that the
Baron might talk to her in parables — in order that he might
show her by means of an object lesson as palpable as pitiless,
what was the impediment which made her marriage with David
Rossi impossible.

The marriage could not be celebrated until after eleven
days, but the meeting at the Coliseum must take place to-
morrow, and as surely as it did so it must result in riot and
Darid Rossi must be shot !

The secretary gathered up his note-book and left the room,
and then the Baron turned to Roma with beaming eyes, and
lips expanding to a smile.

" Finished at last ! A thousand apologies, my dear! Twelve
o'clock already ! Let vis go out and lunch somewhere."

" Let me go home," said Roma.

She was trembling violently, and as she rose to her feet
she swayed a little.

" ]\[y dear child ! You're not well. Take this glass of
water."

" It's nothing. Let me go home."

The Baron walked with her to the head of the stair-
case.

" I understand you perfectly," she said, in a choking voice,
" but there is something you have not counted upon and you are
quite mistaken."

And making a great call on her resolution she threw up
her head and walked firmly down the stairs.

Immediately on reaching home she wrote to David Rossi :

" I must see you to-night. Where can it be ? To-night !
Mind, to-night! To-morrow will be too late — Roma."

Bruno delivered the note by hand and brought back an
answer :

" Dearest, — Come to the office at nine o'clock. Sorry I
cannot go to you. It is impossible. D. R.

" P.S. — You have converted Bruno and he would die for

THE PRIME MINISTER

:io

you. As for the ' little Roman boy,' he is in the seventh heaven
over your presents, and says he must go up to Trinita de' Monti
to begin work at once."

IV

The atmosphere of a newspaper office when the journal is
going to press is like the atmosphere of a steamship at sea at
the beginning of the night. If all goes well the movement is as
regular and drowsy as that of the engines whose monotonous
beat is heard from below, but if anything unusual occurs out-
side, the air within is quickened by many currents, and there
is a haunting sense of disaster which is only allayed by the
light of morning or the sight of port.

The office of the Sunrise at nine o'clock that night tingled
with excitement. An outer sheet had already gone to press,
and the machines in the basement were working rapidly. In
the business office on the first floor people were constantly
coming and going, and the footsteps on the stairs of the com-
posing-room sounded through the walls like the irregular beat
of a hammer.

The door of the editor's room was frequently swinging open,
as reporters with reports, messengers with telegrams, and boys
with proofs came in and laid them on the desk at which the
sub-editor sat at work.

David Rossi stood by his desk at the farther end of the
room. This was the last night of his editorship of the Sunrise,
and by various silent artifices, the staff were showing their
sympathy with the man who had made it, and was forced to
leave it.

One by one they came for cotinsel. or to take his, last com-
mands. He smiled at them with his tired and kindly smile, but
seemed scarcely conscious of their attentions. His hair was
slightly disordered, his loose necktie had fallen out of its knot,
and he looked preoccupied and distraught.

The excitement within the office of the Sunrise corre-
sponded to the commotion otitside. The city was in a ferment,
and from time to time unknown persons, the spontaneous re-
porters of tumultuous days, were brought in from the outer
office to give the editor the latest news of the night. Another
trainful of people had arrived from Milan ! Still another from
Bologna and Carrara ! The storm was growing ! Soon would

270 THE ETERNAL CITY

be heard the crash of war! Their faces were eager, and their
tone was one of triumph. They pitched their voices high, so
as to be heard above the reverberations of the machines, whose
deep ihud in the rooms below made the walls vibrate like the
sides of a ship at sea.

David Kossi did not catch the contagion of their joy. At
every fresh announcement his face clouded. The unofficial
head of the surging and straining democracy, which was filling
itself hourly with hopes and dreams, was unhappy and per-
plexed. He was trying to write his last message to his people,
and he could not get it clear because his own mind was
confused.

"Romans," he wrote first, "your rulers are preparing to resist
your rigid of meeting, and you have nothing to oppose to the muskets
and bayonets of their soldiers hut the hare breasts of a brave but peace-
ful people. No matter ! Fifty, a hundred, five hundred of you, hilled
at the first volley, and the day is won ! The reactionary government
of Italy — all the reactionary governments of Europe — will be borne
down by the righteous indignation of the ivorld."

It would not do ! He had no right to lead the people to
certain slaughter, and he tore up his manifesto and be-
gan again.

"Romans," he wrote the second time, "when reforms cannot be
effected ivithout the spilling of blood, the time for them has not yet
come, and it is the duty of a brave and peaceful people to wait for the
silent operation of natural laiv and the mighty help of moral forces.
Tlierefore at the eleventh hour 1 call upon you in the names of your
wives and children to desist from protest, to submit to tyranny, to
abandon demonstration which can only be made at the risk of your
lives, and to leave it to Almighty God to find some other way by which
the world may hear the voice of the cry of your suffering."

It was impossible ! The people would think he was afraid,
and the opportune moment would be lost.

One man in the office of the Sunrise was entirely outside
the circle of its electric currents. This was the former day-
editor who had been appointed by the proprietors to take Rossi's
place, and was now walking about with a silk hat on his head,
taking note of everything and exercising a premature and
gratuitous supervision. To-morrow everything would be

THE PRIME MINISTER 277

changed ; the subversive policy of the Sunrise would give place
to a loyal constitutionalism, and the tatterdemalions of the
streets would be no more seen within its walls.

David Eossi was tearing up the second of his manifestoes
when this person came to say that a lady in the outer office was
asking to see him.

" Show her into the private waiting-room," said Rossi.

" But may I suggest," said the man, " that considering who
the lady is, it would perhaps be better to see her elsewhere ? "

" Show her into the private room, sir," said Rossi, and the
man shrugged his shoulders and disappeared.

As David Rossi opened the door of a small room at his right
hand, something rustled lightly in the corridor outside, and a
moment afterwards Roma glided into his anus. She was pale
and nervous, and after a moment she began to cry.

" Dear one," said Rossi, pressing her head against his
breast, " what has happened ? Tell me i "

He kissed her hands and her hair, and after a while she
lifted her face and their lips touched.

" Something has frightened you. You look anxious."

" Xo wonder," she said, and then she told him of her sum-
mons to the Palazzo Braschi, and of the business she saw done
there.

There was to be a riot at the me: ting at the Coliseum, be-
cause if need be the Government itself would provoke violence.
The object was to kill him, not the people, and if he stayed in
Rome until to-morrow night there would be no possibility of
escape.

" My darling," she said, " you must fly. You are the victim
marked out by all these preparations — you, you, nobody but
you — and, therefore, I have come to warn you."

She was all in a tremor, and her lips twitched with excite-
ment, but his face cleared while she spoke, and when she was
done he smiled and kissed her.

" It is the best news I've heard for days," he said. '' If I am
the only one who runs a risk . . ."

"Risk! My dearest, don't you understand? Your life is
in danger, and you must fly before it is quite impossible."

" It is already impossible," he answered.

" At this time to-morrow it will be, for every gate will be
closed, and every train out of the city stopped. You must go
to-night. To-morrow will be too late."

He drew off one of her white gloves and kissed her finger-tips.

278 THE ETERNAL CITY

" My dear one," he said, " if there were nothing else to think
of, do you suppose I could go away and leave you behind me?
That is just what somebody expected me to do when he per-
mitted you to witness his preparations. But he was mistaken.
It is impossible. I cannot and I will not leave you."

Her pale face was suddenly overspread by a burning blush,
and she threw both arms about his neck.

" Very well," she said, " I will go with you."

" Darling ! " he cried, and he clasped her to his breast again.
" But no ! That is impossible also. Our marriage cannot take
place for ten days."

" No matter ! I'll go without it."

" Without marriage ? "

"Why not?"

" But think what a name you would leave behind you."

" I don't care. And if somebody counted upon my being
afraid of what people would say, he was mistaken in that,
too."

" My dear one, you don't know what you are saying. You
are too good, too pure . . ."

" Hush ! Our marriage is nothing to anybody but our-
selves, and if we choose to go without it . . ."

" My dear, pure girl ! "

" I can't hear you," she said. Loosening her hands from his
neck, she had covered her ears.

He held her closer to him and said :

" Dearest, I know what you are thinking of, but it must
not be."

" I can't hear a word you're saying," she said, beating her
hands over her ears. " I am a woman, and yet I'm ready to
go — now, this very minute— and if you don't take me it is be-
cause you are a man, and you love other things better than
you love me."

" My darling, don't tempt me. If you only knew what it
costs me . . . but I would rather die . . ."

" I don't want you to die. That's just it ! I want you to
live, and I am willing to risk everything — everything . . ."

Her warm and lovely form was quivering in his arms, and
his heart was labouring wildly.

" iSTo, no, no ! " he cried. " I love you too much. Think !
Only think! Your father charged me to rescue you from a
danger that threatened you, and shall I . . . Heaven forbid!
I can't, and I won't ! "

THE PRIME MINISTER 279

Then a shiver ran over her, and she buried her face in his
breast.

" Dearest," he whispered over her head. " You are so good,
so pure, so noble that you don't know how evil tongues can wag
at a woman because she is brave and true. But I must remem-
ber my mother — and if your poor father is to rest in his
grave . . ."

His voice broke and he stopped. She was breathing heavily,
and holding on to him as if in fear that she would fall.

" See how much I love you," he whispered again, " when I
would rather lose you than see you lower yourself in your own
esteem. . . . And then think of my people! My poor people
who trust me and look up to me so much more than I deserve.
I called them and they have come. They are here now, tens of
thousands of them. And they will be here to-morrow wherever
I may be. Shall I desert them in their hour of need thinking
of my own safety, my own happiness ? No ! You cannot wish
it ! You do not wish it ! I know you too well ! Roma ! My
Roma ! "

She lifted her head from his breast. " You are right," she
said. " You must stay."

" That's better."

" I am ashamed. It was only the other day that I talked
of a wife being her husband's friend to all the limitless lengths
of friendship, and now ..."

" My sweet girl ! "

" Can you ever forgive me for being frightened at the first
sight of danger and telling you to fly ? "

" I will always love you for it."

" And you will never think the worse of me for offering to
go with you ? "

" I will love you for that, too."

" I must be brave," she said, drawing herself up proudly
though her lips were trembling, her voice was breaking and her
eyes were wet. " That's what a woman must be if she is the
wife of a man who has a man's work to do in the world, and a
high and noble mission."

" My brave girl ! "

" T\Tiether you are right or wrong in what you are doing it
is not for me to decide, but if your heart tells you to do it you
must do it, and I must be your soldier, ready and waiting for
my captain's call."

" My heroine ! "

280 THE ETERNAL CITY

" It is not for nothing that I am my father's daughter.
He risked everything and so will I, and if they come to m
to-morrow night and say that . . . that you . . . that you
are . . ."

" Hush, dearest ! "

The proud face had fallen on his breast again. But after
a moment it was raised afresh, and then it was shining all
over.

" That's right ! How doubly beautiful your face is when it
smiles, Koma ! Roma, do you know what I'm going to do when
this is all over? I'm going to spend my life in making you
smile all the time."

She gave him a sudden kiss, and then broke out of his
arms.

" I must be going. I've stayed too long. I may not see
you before the meeting, but I won't say ' good-bye.' "

" My brave, brave girl ! "

" Oh, it isn't that. I've thought of something, and now
I know what I'm going to do."

"What is it?"

" Don't ask me."

" What is it ? " he demanded, laying hold of her,

" It's all right. Don't look so frightened. I'm not going to
kill myself. Let me go."

She opened the door.

" Come to me to-morrow night — I shall expect you," she
whispered, and waving her glove to him over her head she
disappeared from the room.

He stood a moment where she had left him, trying to think
what she intended to do, and then he returned to his desk in
the outer office. His successor was there, looking sour and
stubborn.

" Mr. Rossi," he said, " this afternoon I was told at the
Press Club that the authorities were watching for a plausible
excuse for suppressing the paper. And considering the rela-
tions of this lady to the Minister of the Interior, and the dan-
ger of spies . . ."

"Listen to this carefully, sir," interrupted Rossi. "When
you come into possession of the chair I occupy you shall do
as you think well, but to-night it is mine, and I shall conduct
the paper as I please."

" Still, you will allow me to say . . ."

"Not one word."

THE PRI3IE MINISTER 281

" Permit me to protest . . ."
•">' " Leave the room, immediately."

When the man was gone, David Rossi wrote a third and last
version of his manifesto :

"Romans — Have no fear ! Do not allow yourselves to he terrified
hy the military preparations of your Government. Believe a man
who has never deceived you — the soldiers will not fire ^ipon the people !
Violate no law. Assail no enemy. Respect property. Above all,
respect life. Do not alloio yourselves to he pushed into the doctrine of
physical force. If any man tries to provoke violence, think him an
agent of your enemies and pay no heed. Be hrave, he strong, he pa-
tient, and to-morrow night you ivill send up such a cry as vnll ring
throughout the world. Romans, rememher your fathers and be great. "

Rossi was handing his manuscript to the sub-editor, that
it might be sent upstairs, when all at once the air seemed to
become empty and the world to stand still. The machine in
the basement had ceased to work. There was a momentaiy.
pause, such as comes on the steamship at sea when the engines
are suddenly stopped, and then a sound of frightened voices and
the noise of hurrying feet. Somebody ran along the corridor
outside and rapped sharply at the door.

At the next moment the door opened and four men en-
tered the room. One of them was an inspector, another was
a delegate, and the others were policemen in plain clothes.

" The journal is sequestered," said the inspector to David
Rossi. And turning to one of his men, he said, " Go up to the
composing-room and superintend the distribution of the type."

" Allow no one to leave the building," said the delegate to
the other policemen.

" Gentlemen," said the inspector, " we are charged to make
a perquisition, and must ask you for the keys of your desks."

"What is this?" said the delegate, taking the manifesto
out of Rossi's fingers and proceeding to read it.

At that moment the editor-elect came rushing into the room
with a face like the rising sun.

" I demand to see a list of the things sequestered," he cried.

" You shall do so at the police-office," said the inspector.

" Does that mean that we are all arrested ? "

" Not all. The Honourable Rossi, being a Deputy, is at
liberty to leaVe."

" Thought as much," said the new editor, with a contemptu-
^19

282 THE ETERNAL CITY

ous snort. And turning to Rossi, and showing his teeth in a
bitter smile, he said: " What did I say would happen? Has it
followed quickly enough to satisfy you? "

The inspector and the delegate had opened the editor's desks
and were i-ummaging among their papers when David Rossi put
on his hat and went home.

At the door of the lodge the old Garibaldian was waiting in
obvious excitement.

" Old John has been here, sir," he said. " Something to
tell you. Wouldn't tell me. But Bruno got it out of him
at last. Must be something serious, for the big booby has been
drinking ever since. Hear him in the cafe, sir? I'll send
him up."

Half an hour afterwards Bruno staggered into Rossi's room.
He had a tearful look in his drink-deadened eyes, and was
clearly struggling with a desire to put his arms about Rossi's
neck and weep over him.

" D'ye know wha' ? " he mumbled in a maudlin voice. " Ole
Vampire is a villain ! Ole John — 'member ole John ? — well, ole
John heard his grandson, the 'dective, say that if you go to
the Coliseum to-morrow night . . ."

" I know all about it, Bruno. You may go to bed."

" Stop a minute, sir," said Bi'uno, with a melancholy smile.
"You don't unnerstand. They're going t' shoot you. See?
Ole John — 'member ole John ? Well, ole John . . ."

" I know, Bruno. But I'm going nevertheless."

Bruno fought with the vapour in his brain and said : " You
don' mean t' say you inten' t' let yourself be a target . . ."

" That's what I do mean, Bruno."

Bruno burst into a loud laugh. " Well, I'll be . . . wha' the
devil. . . . But you shan't go ! I'll ... I'll see you damned
first ! "

" You're drunk, Bruno. Go and put yourself to bed."

The drink-deadened eyes flashed, and to grief succeeded
rage. " Pu' mysel' t' bed ! D'ye know wha' I'd like t' do t'
you for t' nex' twenty-four hours? I'd jus' like — yes, by Bac-
chus— I'd jus' like to punch you in t' belly and put you to
bed."

And straightening himself up with drunken dignity, Bruno
stalked out of the room.

The Baron Bonelli in the Piazza Leone was rising from
liis late and solitary dinner, when Felice entered the shaded
dining-room, and handed him a letter from Roma. It ran :

THE PRIME MINISTER 283

" This is to let you know that I intend to be present at
the meeting in the Coliseum to-morrow night. Therefore, if
any shots are to be fired by the soldiers at the crowd, or their
leader, you will know beforehand that they must also be fired
at me."

As the Baron held the letter under the red shade "of the
lamp, the usual immobility of his icy face gave way to a rap-
turous expression.

" She's magnificent ! The woman is magnificent ! And
worth fighting for to the bitter end."

Then, turning to Felice he told the man to ring up the
Commendatore Angelelli, and tell him to send for Minghelli
without delay.

Next day began with heavy clouds lying low over the city,
a cold wind coming down from the mountains, and the rum-
bling of distant thunder. Nevertheless the people who had
come to Rome for the demonstration at the Coliseum seemed
to be in the streets the A\hole day long. From early morning
they gathered in the Piazza Xavona, inquired for David Rossi,
and stood by the fountains and looked up at his windows.

The old Garibaldian had orders to deny him to everybody,
but nobody seemed to complain. Hour by hour the people came
with news of the city, sent up messages and went away. Can-
non was being planted in the Piazza del Popolo ! Soldiers were
stationed around the Coliseum ! Lines of infantry were ranged
in the streets ! No matter ! " He knows his chickens ! " the
people said, and they were not afraid.

As the day wore on the crowds increased.

All the public squares seemed to be full of motley, ill-clad,
ill-nourished, but formidable multitudes. Towards evening
the tradesmen began to shut up their shops, and a regiment
of cavalry paraded the principal streets with a band that played
the royal march. At that the people in the Piazza Navona,
shivering under the Tramontana and huddling together to keep
themselves Avarm, turned their faces to David Rossi's house
and broke into a hungry cheer.

Meantime, the dictator to whom thousands were looking up,
was miserable and alone. He was feeling the agony of having
seized on an ideal and the danger of reducing it to action,

284 THE ETERNAL CITY

The ideal was to bring the moral force of civilised man to bear
against oppression and wrong; the danger was the danger of
riot and bloodshed. He had cried " Peace," but the perils of
protest were so many, and so near. A blow, a push, a quarrel
at a street corner, and God knows what might happen ! It was
like the gigantic gambling of war, with the awful vicissitudes
of triumph and defeat, and the haunting risk of accident.

But the frenzy and sweat of David Rossi's body and soul
had still another channel of torment. He had slept badly, and
on awakening in the dim light his first thought had been of
Roma. Over the tenderness and the tingling of warm blood
which came with the sense of her fresh and lovely figure, there
was the pang of losing her if the end of that day's work was
tragic, and life which was at length opening its sweetness to
him, was snatched away.

Then the story that Roma told him the night before of the
pressure put ufjon her by the Baron took new and terrible
aspects, and he was tortured by a secret pain which he had
never felt before. He saw her in the power of the Minister
after he had gone — tormented, tempted, tried until her will
was broken and she gave herself up to the man at last.

An oath burst from his lips and a red flame passed before
his eyes when he thought of this, and he leapt out of bed as
if something in his brain had suddenly snapped. He had not
a doubt about what he had been doing, and he would go on
with it whatever happened. But he miast think of the con-
sequences no more. It was a strain that human nerves could
not endure.

Elena came with his coffee. The timid creature kept look-
ing at him out of her liquid eyes as if struggling with a desire
to speak, but when she did so it was only on indifferent subjects.

Bruno had got up with a headache and gone off to work.
Little Joseph was very trying this morning, and she had
threatened to whip him.

Her father had been upstairs to say that countless people
were asking for the Deputy, and he wished to know if any-
body was to come up.

" Tell him I Avant to be quite alone to-day," said Rossi, and
then the soft voice ceased, and the timid creature went out with
a guilty look.

Like a man who is going on a long and periloiis .iourney,
David Rossi spent the morning in arranging his affairs. He
looked over his letters and destroyed most of them. The let-

THE PRIME MINISTER 285

ters from Roma were hard to burn, but he read each of them
again, as if trying to stamp their words and characters on his
brain, and with a deep sigh he committed them to the flames.

He took from its frame the covenant which hung by his bed
and burnt it with other private and political papers. Then he
wrote a short letter to Roma, and put it in his pocket to post
on his way to the Piazza. Finally he made his will, and called
Elena and her father to witness it.

It was twelve o'clock by this time and Francesca, in her
red cotton handkerchief, brought up his lunch. The good old
thing looked at him with a comical expression of pity on her
wrinkled face, and he knew that Bruno had told his story.

" Come now, my son ! Put away your papers and get some-
thing on your stomach. People eat even if they're going to the
gallows, you know."

After lunch Rossi called upstairs for Joseph, and the shock-
headed little cub was brought down, with his wet eyes twink-
ling and his petted lip beginning to smile.

" Joseph has been naughty, Uncle David," said Elena. " He
is crying for the clothes Donna Roma gave him, and he says
he must go out because it is his birthday."

" Does a man cry when he is seven ? " said Uncle David.

Thereupon Joseph, keeping his eyes upon his mother, whis-
pered something in Uncle David's ear, and straightway the
gorgeous garments were produced.

" Joseph will promise not to go out to-day, won't you,
Joseph?"

And Joseph rubbed his fists into his eyes and was under-
stood to say " Yes."

But it was in vain that Rossi tried to break the strain of
painful thoughts.

" You're not looking at me, Uncle David. Why don't you
look? " cried Joseph, but still Uncle David's eyes kept wander-
ing from their play.

At four o'clock Bruno came home, looking grim and reso-
lute.

" I was pretty drunk last night, sir," he said, " but if there's
shooting to be done this evening I'm going to be there."

The time came for the two men to go, and everybody saw
them to the door.

" Adieu," said Rossi. " Thfink you for all you've done for
me, and may God bless you! Take care of my little Roman
boy. Kiss me, Joseph ! Again ! For the last time ! Adieu ! "

286 THE ETERNAL CITY

" Ah, God is a good old saint. He'll take care of you, my
son," said the old woman.

" Adieu, Uncle David ! Adieu, papa ! " cried Joseph over
the banisters, and the brave little voice, with its manly fal-
setto, was the last the men heard as they descended the stairs.

The Piazza del Popolo was densely crowded and seemed to
be twice as large as usual. Bruno elbowed a way through for
himself and Rossi until they came to the obelisk in the centre
of the great circle. On the steps of the obelisk a com-
pany of artillery was stationed with a piece of cannon which
commanded the three principal thoroughfares of the city, the
Corso, the Ripctta and the Babuino, which branch off from
that centre like the ribs from the handle of a fan. Without
taking notice of the soldiers the people ranged themselves in
order and prepared for their procession. At the ringing of
Ave Maria the great crowd linked in files and turned their
faces toward the Corso.

Bruno walked first, carrying from his stalwart breast a
standard, on which was inscribed, under the title of the " Re-
public of Man," the words : " Give us this day our daily bread."
At intervals of a dozen yards came other standards, inscribed :
" Resist not evil," " Thy kingdom come," under the names of
the clubs, guilds, and associations to which they belonged.
Rossi had meant to walk immediately behind Bruno, but he
found himself encircled by a group of his follovv'ers. One of
them was Luigi Conti, another was Malatesta, a third was the
Doctor Deputy. I^o sovereign was ever surrounded by more
watchful guards.

By the spontaneous consent of the public, the traffic in the
street was suspended, and crowds of the peoi:ilc of the city had
turned out to look on. The four tiers of the Pincian hill were
lacked with spectators, and every window and balcony in the
Corso was filled with faces. All the shops were shut up, and
many of theni were barricaded -tpithin and without. A regi-
ment of infantry was ranged along the edge of the pavement,
and the people passed between two lines of rifles.

As the procession went on, it was constantly augmented. At
the Piazza Colonna, a group of deputies who had come out
to look, caught the contagion of the moment, and stepped
into the procession. At the Piazza Venezia, a crowd of young
students from the Royal University took their places and
marched on.

The column which had been four abreast when it started

THE PRIME MINISTER 287

from the Popolo, was eight abreast before it reached the end
of the Corso, and the last of the line had not yet left the Piazza.
There were no bands of music and there was no singing, but at
intervals some one at the head of the procession would begin
to clap, and then the clapping of hands would run down the
street like the rattle of musketry.

Such a procession had never been known even in Kome, the
city of spectacles; and the Corso, which had witnessed the pro-
cessions of Popes, with their red glow of cardinals and bishops,
as well as the processions of kings, with their glitter of armed
men, had never yet looked on a scene like this. Men in sheep-
skins and men in broadcloth, men whose cheeks were pinched by
pellagra, or yellow with malaria, and men with full and florid
faces.

Going up the narrow streets beyond the Venezia, the people
passed into the Porum — out of the living city of the present
into the dead city of the past, with its desolation and its
silence, its chaos of broken columns and cornices, of corbels
and capitals, of wells and water-courses, lying in the waste in
which they had been left by the earthquake which had passed
over them, the earthquake of the ages — and so on through the
arch of Titus to their meeting-place in the Coliseum.

All this time, David Rossi's restless eyes had passed ner-
vously from side to side. Going down the Corso he had been
dimly conscious of eyes looking at him from windows and bal-
conies. He was struggling to be calm and firm, but he was in a
furnace of dread, and beneath his breath he was praying from
time to time that God would prevent accident and avert blood-
shed, lie was also praying for strength of spirit, and feeling
like a guilty coward. His face was deadly pale, the fire within
seemed to consume the grosser senses, and he walked along like
a "man in a dream.

At intervals people spoke to him. " This is wonderful," said
one, and another said it would be " written in history." He
hardly heard them. The one man who was not uplifted by that
thrilling demonstration was the man who had made it. But
though he was tormented by fears, he was exalted by the fever
that burnt in him.

" If Rossi speaks to-day," said somebody, " it is not Rome
alone that will hear."

^88 THE ETERNAL CITY

VI

Half an hour before Ave Maria Roma had put on an incon-
spicuous cloak, a plain hat and a dark veil, and walked down to
the Coliseum. Soldiers were stationed on all the high ground
about the circus, and large numbers of persons were already-
assembled inside. The people were poor and ill-clad, and they
smelt of garlic and uncleanness. " His people, though,"
thought Roma, and so she conquered her repulsion.

Three tiers encircle the walls of the Coliseum, like the gal-
leries of a great theatre, and the first of these was occupied by
a regiment of Carabineers. There was some banter and chaff
at the expense of the soldiers, but the people Avere serious for all
that, and the excitement beneath their jesting was deep and
strong.

The low cloud which had hung over the city from early
morning seemed to lie like a roof over the topmost circle of
the amphitheatre, and as night came on the pit below grew dark
and chill. Then torches were lit and put in prominent places —
long pitch sticks covered with rags or brown paper. The
people were patient and good-humoured, but to beguile the
tedium of waiting they sang songs. They were songs of labour
chiefly, but one man started the Te Deum, and the rest joined
in with one voice. It was like the noise the sea makes on a
heavy day when it breaks on a bank of sand.

After a while there was a deep sound from outside. The pro-
cession was approaching. It came on like a great tidal wave
and flowed into the vast place in the gathering darkness with
the light of a hundred fresh torches.

In less than half an hour the ruined amphitheatre was a
moving mass of heads from the ground to its topmost storey.
Long sinuous trails of blue smoke swept across the people's
faces, and the great brown mass of circular stones was lit up in
fitful gleams.

Roma was lifted off her feet by the breaker of human beings
that surged around. At one moment she was conscious of
some one behind who was pressing the people back and making
room for her. At the next moment she was aware that through
the deep multitudinous murmur of voices that rumbled as in a
vault somebody near her was trying to speak.

The speaking ceased and there was a sharp crackle of ap-
plause which had the effect of producing silence. In this si-
lence another voice, a clear, loud, vibrating voice, said " Ro-

THE PRIME MINISTER 289

mans and Brothers," and then there was a prolonged shout of
recognition from ten thousand throats.

In a moment a dozen torches were handed up, and the
speaker was in a circle of light and could be seen by all. It
was Rossi. He was standing bareheaded on a stone, with a
face of unusual paleness. He was wearing the loose cloak of the
common people of Rome, thrown across his breast and shoulder.
Bruno stood by his left side holding a standard above their
heads. At his right hand were two other men who partly con-
cealed him from the crowd. Roma found herself immediately
below them, and within two or three paces.

After a moment the shouting died down, and there was no
sound in the vast place, but a soft, quick, indrawn hiss that
was like the palpitating breathing of an immense flock of sheep.
Then Rossi began again.

" First and foremost," he said, " let me call on you to pre-
serve the peace. One false step to-night and all is lost. Our
enemies would like to fix on us the name of rebels. Rebels
against whom? There is no rebellion except rebellion
against the people. The people are the true sovereign, and the
only rebels are the classes who oppress them. They may wear
the uniform of soldiers, or the court dress of ministers, but if
they are not the subjects and servants of the people they are the
real rebels after all. This is a deep truth, let who will deny it."

A murmur of assent broke from the crowd. Rossi paused,
and looked around at the soldiers.

" Romans," he said, " do not let the armed rebels of the
State provoke you to violence. It is to their interest to do
so. Defeat them. You have come here in the face of their
rifles and bayonets to show that you are not afraid of death.
But I ask you to be afraid of doing an unrighteous thing. It
is on my responsibility that you are here, and it would be an
undying remorse to me if through any fault of yours one drop
of blood were shed.

" I call on you as earnestly as if my nearest and dearest were
among you, liable to be shot down by the rifles of the mili-
tary, not to give them any excuse for violence. I call on you
to swear with me that you will not resist evil. Swear ! "

The people answered instantly, and the oath was taken with
a universal shout. Roma turned to look at the soldiers. As far
as she could see in the uncertain light they were standing
passively in their circle, with their rifles by their sides.

" Romans," said Rossi again, " a month ago we protested

290 THE ETERNAL CITY

against an iniquitous tax on the first necessary of li^e. The an-
swer is sixty thousand men in arms around us. Therefore we
are here to-night to appeal to the mightiest force on earth,
mightier than any army, more powerful than any parliament,
more absolute than any king — the force of moral sympathy
and public opinion throughout the world."

At this there were shouts of " Bravo " and some clapping
of hands.

" The upholders of oppression will ask you what need you
liave of moral sympathy if you have your representative gov-
ernment, your ballot-boxes and votes. Tell them that repre-
sentative government may be made the instrument of the privi-
leged classes, and votes may be of no avail. If the votes of
men were rightly apportioned, the people would be the sov-
ereigns in every country on the globe.

" It is because they are not rightly apportioned that reac-
tionary governments exist nearly everywhere, that the poor are
taxed out of all proportion to the rich, that the soil, which is
the patrimony of the human race, is in the hands of the few
to the disadvantage of the many, and that capital, which is the
wages of all, is the monopoly of banks and trusts."

" Bravo ! Bravo ! Bravo ! " came from every side in ex-
cited cries.

" It is because the votes of the people are not rightly appor-
tioned that reactionary governments in Italy have been able to
keep us out of the divinest part of our human patrimony — the
patrimony of our intelligence. Generation after generation we
have lived in the darkness of ignorance, that the rebels of the
ruling classes might do their best to reduce us to the condition
of beasts of burden, I thank my good, kind, merciful God that
they have not been able to do so altogether. Man is divine,
man is God-like, and the Almighty has not allowed that even
his worst oppressors should bring him down to the level of
the brutes."

Itossi's vibrating voice had risen almost to the shrillness of
a cry, and he was answered by a deep " Ah " that was like the
sough of an ebbing sea,

" And during this age-long rebellion against the true sov-
ereignty of the world, what has the Church been doing? The
Church belongs to the people. Its Founder was a man of the
people. He was called the Son of Man. He was born poor,
lived poor, and had compassion upon the multitude. Has the
Church declared itself on the side of the people ? What is the

THE PRIME MINISTER 291

■word of life which the Church speaks to a sick and suffering
world? The Church tells you to be content with your lot, to
be patient and resigned, to respect the laws of civil authority,
to believe that human society is impressed with the stamp and
character which God meant to give it.

" The Church tells you that you must never be seditious,
that you must cultivate religion, that you must find in the
prospect of another world consolation for the trials of this one.
If you are rich, you must give alms to the poor. If you are
poor, you must submit to the rich. Whether yovi are rich or
poor you must be obedient to the bishops, and bow your knee
to the authority of the Pope. Such is the word of life which
the Church gives to a sick world through the mouth of its
sovereign pontiff. Are you content with these admonitions?
When you asked for bread have they given you a stone ? "

A cry as of pain burst from the people, but the speaker did
not pause.

" Is it true that the Popes always are, and always have been
since early centuries, and always must be on the side of the
thrones and princes? Is it true that the thrones and princes
pass away while the people last for ever? Is it true, as your
bishops say, that social democracy is a social evil, and political
democracy a religious crime ? "

A strange light came into Rossi's eyes, and he raised his
voice to something like a shout.

" What is democracy ? " he cried. " Democracy is the break-
ing down of the barriers that divide man from man. It is
the fulfilment of the law of equality, not merely between body
and body, but between soul and soul. ' Thy kingdom come
on earth as it is in heaven.' Democracy is an attempt at the
practical realisation of that prayer. Democracy believes that
the grand voice of God speaks through the people. Democracy
recognises the brotherhood of man. Democracy sees only one
division among men — good men and bad men, just men and un-
just men, followers of God's law and rebels against it. This
is democracy, and all the rest is a superstition and a lie."

The people broke into loud cries of assent, but again the
speaker did not stop.

'• Why does not the Church recognise the truly religious
character of democracy? Why does it not see that democracy
is Christianity, that Christianity is democracy, and that there
is no true definition of the one that is not a description of
the other?

292 THE ETERNAL CITY

" Remember the words of one of the great men of our
country : ' When the arms of Christ even yet stretched out on
the cross shall be loosened to clasp the whole human family in
one embrace, there will be no more Italians, or Englishmen,
or Frenchmen, or Americans, or rich, or poor, or kings, or
beggars, but only men.' "

The deep " Ah " came again from every side. It was like
the heaving np of the hearts of the people, and Rossi was com-
pelled to pause for a while.

" Romans and brothers," he continued, " by the decree of
God, revealed in the history of humanity, the world is march-
ing towards democracy. Democracy is the true evolution of
God's will in natural law. It is, therefore, irresistible. It is
moving the world onward to new destinies as surely as the
earth is moving in the spheres. It is the law of life, let who
will close his eyes to it or bury his head in the sand."

There was some cheering, but Rossi raised his head and it
died away.

" And what is our duty ? " he said. " Our duty as men, in
the face of injustice and oppression, is to assert the sovereignty
of the people. Our duty as men is to overthrow — by moral
force, not by violence — all governments that are not of the
people, all parliaments that are hostile and corrupt, all kings
and thrones, and self-constituted authorities. Our duty as
men is to remove every obstacle in the path of the people, and
if among these obstacles the Papacy proves to be one, then, in
God's name, let us not draw back before a phantom. The soul
of the Church is one thing, and the body of the Church is an-
other. The soul of the Church is with the people. It is
divine, and it will live for ever. If the body of the Church
is against the people, it will encounter the whirlwind and be
swept away."

The cloak had fallen from Rossi's breast, and his arms were
swinging in wild gestures to right and left. There was si-
lence for a moment, and then a tremendous cry. It was diffi-
cult to realise at first whether it was a shout of approval
or disapproval. The speaker had hit deep down at the
idol of ages, and the voice that went up from the people
was like the fierce groan that comes from the bosom of a sul-
len sea.

In the commotion of the moment, Bruno stepped in front
of Rossi, and covered him. Roma felt as if she Avere losing
consciousness, but the confused cries died away, and, before she

THE PRIME MINISTER 293

recovered herself, Rossi had put Bruno aside and was speaking
again.

" What is our duty as Romans ? " he said. " Our duty as
Romans is to bring the prestige of a great name, sacred among
the nations and a pledge of the world's respect and love, to the
service of God and man. There is something more in this place
to-night than a perishing people crying for bread. There is
the human race calling for justice. Ours is a solemn mission,
the mission of proving to the world that humanity is one, that
all men are sons of God and brothers in Him. On the edge of
this silent Campagna, with the dust of nations beneath our
feet, we are assisting at the dawn of a new era. We are re-cre-
ating an Eternal City which should be the Pantheon of Hu-
manity, the Angel of Light among the peoples, the court and
congress of the world."

There was no question of division now — there was only a
deep murmur of assent.

" Romans, if your bread is moistened by tears to-day, think
of the power of suffering and be strong. Think of the history
of these old walls. Think of the words of Christ : ' Which of
the prophets have not your fathers stoned?' The prophets of
humanity have all been martyrs, and God has marked you out
to be the martyr nation of the world. Suffering is the sacred
flame that sanctifies the human soul. Pray to God for strength
to suffer, and He will bless you from the heights of heaven."

The people were weeping audibly on every hand.

" Brothers, you are hungry, and I say these things to you
with a beating heart. Your children are starving, and I swear
before God that from this day forward I will starve with them.
If I have eaten two meals a day hitherto, for the future I will
eat but one. But let the powers that are held over you do
their worst. If they imprison you for resisting their tyrannies,
others will take your place. If they kill your leader, God wiU
raise up another who will be stronger than he. Swear to me
in this old Coliseum, sacred to the martyrs, that come what
iiifiy> you will not yield to injustice and wrong."

There was something in Rossi's face at that last moment
that seemed to transcend the natural man. lie raised his right
arm over his head and in a loud voice cried, " Swear ! "

The people took the oath with uplifted hands and a great
shout. It was terrific.

Rossi stepped down, and the excitement was ovei'whelming.
The vast crowd seemed to toss to and fro under the smoking

294 THE ETERNAL CITY

lights like a tumultuous sea. The simple-hearted Roman
populace could not contain themselves.

Something they did not understand carried them away, but
the word of hope had been spoken to them, and they cheered
and wept like children. Men clasped each other's hands, and a
poor woman, a contadina, with stays outside her bodice, put her
arms about Roma's neck and kissed her.

The crowd began to break up, and the people went ofi sing-
ing. Rossi and his group of friends had disappeared when
Roma turned to go. She found herself weeping and singing,
too, but for another reason. The danger was passed, and all
was over!

Going out by one of the arches, she was conscious of some-
body walking beside her. Presently a voice said:

"You don't recognise me in the darkness, Donna Roma?"

It was Charles Minghelli. He had been told to take care
of her. Could he offer her his escort home ?

" No, thank you," she replied, and she was surprised at her-
self that she experienced no repulsion.

Her heart was light, a great weight had been lifted away,
and she felt a large and generous charity. At the top of the
hill she found a cab, and as it dipped down the broad avenue
that leads out of the circle of the dead centuries into the world
of living men, she turned and looked back at the Coliseum. It
was like a dream. The moving lights — the shadows of great
heads on the grim old walls — the surging crowds — the cheers
from hoarse throats. But the tinkle of the electric tram
brought her back to reality, and then she noticed that it had
begun to snow.

Bruno ijloughed a way for David Rossi, and they reached
home at last.

" Ah, here you are, thank God ! " said the old Garibaldian,
flourishing his pork-pie hat.

" You thought there would be shooting, didn't you? " cried
Bruno. " But we've brought him home as safe as a sardine."

" Praise the Virgin and all the saints! " said the old woman,
and then Rossi tried to answer, but his voice was gone, and he
made only a husky croak.

Elena was standing at the door of David Rossi's rooms, with
an agitated face.

" All right, Elena ! " Bruno bawled up the stairs.

" Have you seen anything of Joseph ? " she asked.

THE PRIME MINISTER 295

"Joseph?"

" I opened the window to look if you were coming, and in
a moment he was gone. On a night like this, too, when it isn't
too safe for anybody to be in the streets."

" Has he still got the clothes on ? " said Bruno.

"Yes, and the naughty boy has broken his promise and must
be whipped."

The men looked into each other's faces.

" Donna Roma ? " said Eossi.

" I'll go and see," said Bruno.

" I must have a rod, whatever you say. I really must ! "
said Elena.

VII

Roma reached home in a glow of joy. She told herself that
Rossi would come to her in obedience to her command. He
must dine with her to-night. Seven was now striking on all
the clocks outside, and to give him time to arrive she put
back the dinner until eight. Her aunt would dine in her
own room, so they would be quite alone. The conventions
of life had fallen absolutely away, and she considered them
no more.

Meantime she must dress and perhaps take a bath. A cer-
tain sense of soiling which she could not conquer had followed
her up from that glorious meeting. She felt a little ashamed
of it, but it was there, and though she told herself " They were
his people, poor things," she was glad to take oif the clothes
she had worn at the Coliseum.

There was an almost voluptuous delight in dressing afresh
that night. The strain of past days was gone, and she foresaw
no danger in the near future.

Before Parliament could finish its sitting she would be mar-
ried to David Rossi and beyond all risk of injuring him. She
lived in the joy of her future happiness, and threw her whole
soul into it.

With colour heightened by emotion and the bath, she was
more lovely that night than she had ever been before. En-
thusiasm and success increased her beauty, and the sense of
having gone triumphantly through another chapter of her
soul's life had its effect on her body also. The blood pulsed
visibly under her skin, her bosom rose and fell and her eyes
gleamed with looks of love under the upward curve of their

296 THE ETERNAL CITY

long black lashes. She could not help knowing that she was
beautiful, and it made her proud and happy.

She combed out the curls of her glossy black hair, put her-
self into a loose tea-gown and red slippers, took one backward
glance at herself in the glass, and then going into the drawing-
room, she stood by the window to dream and wait. The snow
was still falling in thin flakes, but the city was humming on,
and the piazza down below was full of people.

After a while the electric bell of the outer door was rung,
and her heart beat against her breast. " It's he," she thought,
and in the exquisite tumult of the moment she lifted her arms
and turned to meet him.

But when the door was opened it was the Baron Bonelli who
was shown into the room. lie was in evening dress, with black
tie and studs, which had a chilling effect, and his manner was
cold and as calm as usual.

" Well," he said, sitting down after his first salutations.

" Well ! " she answered, hardly trying to disguise her dis-
appointment.

The poodle, which had been sleeping before the fire, awoke,
yawned, stretched itself, and recognising the Baron, came up
to him to be caressed, but he pushed the dog away.

" I regret," he said, " that we must enter on a painful in-
terview."

" As you please," she answered, and sitting on a stool by the
fire she rested her elbows on her knees, and looked straight be-
fore her.

" Your letter of last night, my dear, produced the result
you desired. I sent for Commendatore Angelelli, invented
some plausible excuses, and reversed my orders. I also sent
for Minghelli and told him to take care of you on your reckless
errand. The matter has thus far ended as you wished and I
trust you are satisfied."

She nodded her head without turning round, and bore her-
self with a certain air of defiance.

" But it is necessary that we should come to an understand-
ing," he continued. " You have driven hard, my child. With
all the tenderness and sympathy possible, I am compelled to
speak plainly. I wished to spare your feelings. You will not
permit me to do so."

The incisiveness of his speech cut the air like ice falling
from a glacier, and Roma felt herself turning pale with a sense
of something fearful whirling around her.

THE PRIME MINISTER 297

" According to your own plans, David Rossi is to marry
you within a week, although a month ago he spoke of you in
public as an unworthy woman. Will you be good enough to
tell me how this miracle has come to pass ? "

She laughed, and tried to carry herself bravely.

" If it is a miracle, how can I explain it ? " she said.

" Then permit me to do so. He is going to marry you be-
cause he no longer thinks as he thought a month ago; because
he believes he was wrong in what he said, and would like to
wipe it out entirely."

" He is going to marry me because he loves me," she an-
swered hotly. " That's why he is going to marry me." And
with a fiery brightness in her eyes, she turned round and added,
" Because he loves me with a love that is pure and holy."

At the next moment a f aintness came over her, and a misty
vapour flashed before her sight. In her anger she had torn open
a secret place in her own heart, and something in the past of
her life seemed to escape as from a tomb.

" Then you have not told him ? " said the Baron in so low
a tone that he could scarcely be heard.

" Told him what ? " she said.

" The truth— the fact."

She caught her breath and was silent.

" My child, you are doing wrong. There is a secret between
you already. That is a bad basis to begin life upon. And the
love that is raised on it will be a house built on the sand."

Her heart was beating violently, but she turned on him
with a burning glance.

" What do you mean ? " she said, while the colour increased
in her cheeks and forehead. " I am a good woman. You know
I am."

" To me, yes ! The best woman in the world," he answered.

She had risen to her feet, and was standing by the chimney
piece.

" Understand me, my child," he said affectionately. " When
I say you are doing wrong, it is only in keeping a secret from
the man you intend to marry. Between you and me . . . there
is no secret."

She looked at him with haggard eyes.

" For me you are everything that is sweet and good, but for
another — who knows ? When a man is about to marry a wom-
an, there is one thing he can never forgive. Need I say what
that is? N^o use telling him that her heart is pure — her soul
20

298 THE ETERNAL CITY

untainted — that it was the impulse of a moment — and that her
will was forced or suspended. The fact, ' Yes,' or ' No,' that is
the question."

The glow that had suffused her face changed to the pallor
of marble, and she turned to the Baron and stood over him
with the majesty of a statue.

" Is it you that tell me this ? " she said. " You — you ! Can
a woman never be allowed to forget ? Must the fault of another
follow her all her life ? Oh, it is cruel ! It is merciless . . .
But no matter ! " she said in another voice, and, turning away
from him she added, as if speaking to herself : " He believes
everything I tell him. Why should I trouble ? "

The Baron followed her with a look that pierced to the
depths of her soul.

" Then jow have told him a falsehood ? " he said.

She pressed her lips together and made no answer.

" That was foolish. By-and-bye, somebody may come along
who will tell him the truth."

" What can anyone tell him that he has not heard already?
He has heard everything, and put it all behind his back."

" Could nobody bring conviction to his mind ? Nobody
whatever? Not even one who had no interest in slander-
ing you ? "

She looked at him in a frightened way.

" You don't mean that you . . ."

" Wliy not ? He has come between us. What could be more
natural than that I should tell him so ? "

A look of dismay came over her face, and it was followed
by an expression of terror.

" But you wouldn't do that," she stammered out. " You
couldn't do it. It is impossible. You are only trying me."

His face remained perfectly passive, and she seized him by
the arm.

"Think! Only think! You would do no good for your-
self. You might stop the marriage — yes! But you wouldn't
carry out your political purpose. You couldn't! And while
you would do no good for yourself, think of the harm you would
do for me. He loves me and you would hurt his beautiful faith
in me, and I should die of grief and shame."

She stopped to question his face, which had begun to ex-
press sviffering.

"And then I love him! Oh, how much I love him! The
other wasn't love. You know it wasn't."

THE PRIME MINISTER 299

She spoke rapidly, without waiting to think of the effect of
her words.

" You are cruel, my child," he said, speaking with dignity.
" You think / am hard and unrelenting, but you are selfish and
cruel. You are so concerned about your own feelings that
you don't even suspect that perhaps you are wounding
mine."

" Ah, yes, it is too bad," she said, dropping to her knees at
his feet. " After all you have been very good to me thus far,
and it was partly my own fault if matters ended as they did.
Yes, I confess it. I was vain and proud. I wanted all the
world. And when you gave me everything, being so tied your-
self, I thought I might forgive you. . . . But I was wrong —
I was to blame — nothing in the world could excuse you — I saw
that the moment afterwards. I really hadn't thought at all
until then^but then my soul awoke — and then . . ."

She turned her head aside that he might not see her face.

" And then love came, and I was like a woman who had mar-
ried a man thirty years older than herself — married without
love — just for the sake of her pride and vanity. But love, real
love, drove all that away. It is gone now, I only wish to lead a
good life, however humble it may be. Let me do so ! . . .
Don't take him away from me ! Don't . . ."

She stammered and stopped, Avith the sudden consciousness
of what she was doing. She was pleading for the life of the
man she loved to his enemy, the man who said he loved her.

" What a fool I am ! " she said, leaping to her feet. " Wliat
fresh story can you tell him that he is likely to believe ? "

" I can tell him that, according to the law of nature and of
reason, you belong to me," said the Baron.

" Very well ! It will be your word against mine, will
it not?"

" I can tell him," continued the Baron, " that before God I
am your husband ; and if he cOmes between us, it will only be
as your lover and your paramour."

" Tell him," said Eoma, " and he will fling your insults in
your face."

The Baron rose and began to walk about the room, and
there were some moments in which nothing could be heard but
the slight creaking of his patent-leather boots. Then he said :

" In that case I should be compelled to challenge him."

" Challenge him ! " She repeated the words with scorn.
" Is it likely ? Do you forget that duelling is a crime, that you

300 THE ETERNAL CITY

are a Minister, that you would have to resign, and expose your-
self to penalties ? "

The Baron bowed his head. " There are moments in a
man's life when he does not consider such things — when his
political aims are swallowed up by his personal feelings. I
know the world thinks that I am first the statesman. But
you . . . you ought to know that whatever the strength of my
political ambition, I am above everything else a man."

Itoma's face, which had worn a smile of triumph, became
clouded again.

" If a man insults me grievously in my affections and my
honour, I will challenge him," said the Baron.

" But he will not fight — it would be contrary to his prin-
ciples," said Roma.

" In that event he will never be able to lift his head in Italy
again. But make no mistake on that point, my child. The
man who is told that the woman he is going to marry is secretly
the wife of another, must either believe it or he must not be-
lieve it. If he believes it he casts her off for ever. If he does
not believe it, he fights for her name and his own honour. If
he does neither, he is not a man."

Roma had returned to the stool, and was resting her elbows
on her knees and gazing into the fire.

" Have you thought of that ? " said the Baron. " If the
man fights a duel it will be in defence of what you have told
him. In the blindness of his belief in your word he will be
ready to risk his life for it. Are you going to stand by and see
him fight for a lie ? "

Roma hid her face in her hands.

" Say he is wounded — it will be for a lie ! Say he wounds
his adversary — that will be for a lie too! "

Roma listened with a sense of fear and guilt.

" Say that David Rossi kills me — what then? He must fly
f r<mi Italy, and his career is at an end. If he is alone, he is a
miserable exile who has earned what he may not enjoy. If you
are with him you are both miserable, for a lie stands between
you. Every hour of your life is poisoned by the secret you
cannot share with him. You are afraid of blurting it out in
your sleep. At last you go to him and confess everything.
What then ? The idol he worshipped has turned to clay."

Roma listened, panting and crushed.

" Then think of his remorse ! What he thought an act of
retribution is a crime. The dead man had told the truth, and

THE PRIME MINISTER 301

he committed murder on the word of a woman who was a de-
ceiver— a drab."

Roma raised her hands to her head as if to avert a blow.
The Baron came nearer, and stood immediately above her as he
marshalled one terror after another.

" Or say that I kill David Rossi — what then ? You have
allowed him to die for a lie. But that is not all. The dead
know everything. Being dead, David Rossi knows all, and
you live in fear of your own death because you think he waits
for you in the other world to charge you with your untruth."

" Stop ! Stop ! " she cried, in a choking voice, and lifting
her face, distorted with suffering, he saw tears in her brilliant
eyes. To see Roma cry touched the only tenderness of which
his iron nature was capable. He patted the beautiful head
at his feet, and said in a low, caressing tone :

"Why will you make me seem so hard, my child? There
is really no need to talk of these things. They will not occur.
How can I have any desire to degrade you since I must degrade
myself at the same time? I have no wish to tell anyone the
secret which belongs only to you and me. In that matter you
were not to blame, either. It was all my doing. I was swelter-
ing under the shameful law which tied me to a dead body, and
I tried to attach you to me. And then your beauty — your love-
liness . . ."

"Oh, why didn't I die?" said Roma. She was looking
straight into the fire, and the big drops were rolling down
her cheeks.

" Come ! It's not so bad as that. But if the marriage
cannot take place without the consequences I speak of, you
must see that it is better that it should not take place at all
Postpone it. Don't let it trouble you that the banns are pub-
lished. A marriage can be celebrated at any time within one
hundred and eighty days. Before that Parliament will have
risen, the man will be arrested, and the law will take its course.
As to the rest, leave everything to Time ! All our little heart-
aches yield to that remedy, my child ! "

At that moment Felice announced Commendatore An-
gelelli. Roma walked over to the window and leaned her face
against the glass. Snow was still falling, and there were some
rumblings of thunder. Sheets of light shone here and there in
the darkness, but the world outside was dark and drear. Would
David Rossi come to-night? She almost hoped he would not.

302 THE ETERNAL CITY

VIII

Behind her the Prime Minister, who had apologised for
turning her house into a temporary Ministry of the Interior,
was talking to his Chief of Police.

" You were there yourself ? "

" I was, Excellency. I went up into a high part and looked
down. It was a strange and wild sight."

" ITow many would there be ? "

" Impossible to guess. Inside and outside, Romans, coun-
try people, perhaps a hundred thousand."

" And Rossi's speech ? "

" The usual appeal to the passions of the people, Excellency.
The people were the only authority. The sovereignty of the
people must be established at all costs. The ruling classes
were the real rebels, and even the Church was conspiring
against the poor. In short, the familiar attempt to promote
hate between the classes. But clever! Very clever! your Ex-
cellency. An extraordinary exhibition of the art of flying be-
tween wind and water. We couldn't have found a word that
was distinctly seditious, even if we hadn't had your Excel-
lency's order to let the man go on."

" You have stopped the telegraph wires ? "

" Yes."

" And the foreign correspondents? "

" The troublesome ones are held in their houses, and told
to keep themselves at the disposition of the police."

" When the meeting was over, Rossi went home ? "

" He did, Excellency."

" And the hundred thousand ? "

" In their excitement they began to sing and to march
through the streets. They are still doing so. After going
down to the Piazza Navona, they are coming up by the Piazza
del Popolo and along the Babuino with banners and torches."

"Men only?"

" Men, women and children."

" You would say that their attitude is threatening? "

" Distinctly threatening, your Excellency."

" Let yovir delegates give the legal warning and say that
the gathering of great mobs at this hour will be regarded as
open rebellion. Allow three minutes' grace for the sake of
the women and children, and then ... let the military do their
duty."

THE PRIME MINISTER 303

" Quite so, your Excellency."

" After that you may carry out the instructions I gave
you yesterday."

" Certainly, your Excellency."

"Keep in touch with all the leaders. Some of them
will find that the air of Rome is a little dangerous to their
health to-night and may wish to fly to Switzerland or to
England, where it would be difficult or impossible to follow
them."

Roma heard behind her the thin cackle as of a hen over her
nest, which always came when Angelelli laughed.

" Their meeting itself was illegal, and our licence has
been abused."

" Grossly abused, your Excellency."

" The action of the Government was too conciliatory, and
has rendered them audacious, but the new law is clear in pro-
hibiting the carrying of seditious flags and emblems." .

" We'll deal with them according to Articles 134 and 252
of the Penal Code, your Excellency."

" You can go. But come back immediately if anything
happens. I must remain here for the present, and in case of
riot, I may have to send you to the King."

Angelelli's thin voice fell to a whisper of awe at the men-
tion of Majesty, and after a moment he bowed and backed out
of the room.

Roma did not turn round, and the Minister, who had
touched the bell and called for pen and paper, sj^oke to her
from behind.

" I daresay you thought I was hard and inhuman at the
Palazzo Braschi yesterday, but I was really very merciful. In
letting you see the preparations to enclose your friend as
in a net, I merely wished you to warn him to fly from the
country. He has not done so and now he must take the con-
sequences."

Felice brought the writing materials and the Baron sat
down at the table. There was a long silence in which nothing
could be heard but the scratching of the Minister's pen, the
snoring of the poodle, and the deadened sound through the
wall of the Countess's testy voice scolding Natalina.

Roma stepped into the boudoir. The room was dark and
from its unlit windows she could see more plainly into the
streets. Masses of shadow lay around, but the untrodden steps
were white with thin snow, and the piazza was alive with black

304: THE ETERNAL CITY

figures which moved on the damp ground like worms on an
upturned sod.

She was leaning her hot forehead against the glass and
looking out with haggard eyes, when a deep rumble as of a
great multitude came from below. The noise quickly increased
to a loud uproar, with shouts, songs, whistles and shrill sounds
blown out of door-keys. Before she was aware of his presence
the Baron was standing behind her, between the window and
the pedestal with the plaster bust of Rossi.

" Listen to them," he said. " The proletariat indeed 1 . . .
And this is the flock of bipeds to whom men in their senses
would have us throw the treasures of civilisation, and hand
over the delicate machinery of government."

He laughed bitterly, and drew back the curtain with an im-
patient hand.

"Democracy! Christian Democracy! Vox Populi, vox
Dei! The sovereignty and infallibility of the people ! Pshaw!
I would as soon believe in the infallibility of the Pope ! "

The crowds increased in the piazza until the triangular
space looked like the rapids of a swollen river, and the noise
that came up from it was like the noise of falling cliffs and
uprooted trees.

" Fools ! Rabble ! Too ignorant to know what you really
want, and at the mercy of every rascal who sows the wind and
leaves you to reap the whirlwind.'"

Roma crept away from the Baron with a sense of physical
repulsion, and at the next moment, from the other window,
she heard the blast of a trumpet. A dreadful silence followed
the trumpet blast, and then a clear voice cried :

" In the name of the law I command you to disperse."

It was the voice of a delegate of the police. Roma could
see the man on the lowest stage of the stops with his tri-coloured
scarf of office about his breast. A second blast came from the
trumpet, and agin the delegate cried :

" In the name of the law I command you to disperse."

At that moment somebody cried, " Long live the Republic
of Man ! " and thei'e was great cheering. In the midst of the
cheering the trumpet sounded a third time, and then a loud
voice cried, " Fire ! "

At the next moment a volley was fired from somewhere, a
cloud of white smoke was coiling in front of the windows at
which Roma stood, and women and children in the vagueness
below were uttering acute cries.

THE PRIME MINISTER 305

"Oh! Oh! Oh!"

" Don't be afraid, my child. Nothing has happened yet.
The police had orders to fire first over the people's heads."

In her fear and agitation Koma ran back to the outer room,
and a moment afterwards Angelelli opened the door and stood
face to face with her.

" What have you done ? " she demanded.

" An unfortunate incident, Excellency," said Angelelli, as
the Baron appeared. " After the warning of the delegate the
mob laughed and threw stones, and the Carabineers fired.
They were in the piazza and fired up the steps."

"Well?"

" Unluckily there were a few persons on the upper flights
at the moment, and some of them are wounded, and a child
is dead."

Roma muttered a low moan and sank on to the stool.

"Whose child is it?"

" We don't yet know, but the father is there, and he is
raging like a madman, and unless he is arrested he will provoke
the people to frenzy, and there will be riot and insurrection."

The Baron took from the table a letter he had written
and sealed.

" Take this to the Quirinal instantly. Ask for an immedi-
ate audience with the King. When you receive his written
reply call up the Minister of War and say you have the royal
decree to declare a state of siege."

Angelelli was going out hurriedly.

" Wait ! Send to the Piazza Navona and arrest Rossi. Be
careful ! You will arrest the Deputy under Articles 134 and
252 on a charge of using the great influence he has acquired
over the people to urge the masses by speeches and Avritings to
resist public authority, and to change violently the form of
government and the constitution of the State."

"Good!"

Angelelli disappeared, the acute cries outside died away,
the scurrying of flying feet was no more heard, and Roma was
still on the stool before the fire, moaning behind the hands that
covered her face. The Baron came near to her and touched
her with a caressing gesture.

" I'm sorry, my child, very sorry. Rossi is a poet, not a
statesman, but he is none the less dangerous on that account.
The hiindred and one groups playing for their own hand in
Parliament are easily dealt with by any government, but a man

306 THE ETERNAL CITY

like this, who wants nothing, and means something, and lives
in the faith of an idea, is not to be trifled with in any country.
No wonder he has fascinated you, as he has fascinated the
people, but time will wipe away an impression like that. The
best thing that can happen for both of you is that he should
be arrested to-night. It will save you so many ordeals and so
much sorrow."

At that moment a cannon shot boomed through the dark-
ness outside, and its vibration rattled in the windows and
walls.

" The signal from St. Angelo," said the Baron. " The gates
are closed and the city is under siege."

IX

When in the commotion of the household caused by the
near approach of the crowd which brought Rossi home from
the Coliseum, little Joseph slipped down the stairs and made
a dash for the street, he chuckled to himself as he thought how
cleverly he had eluded his mother, who had been looking out
of the bedroom window, and those two old watch-dogs, his
grandfather and grandmother, who were nearly always at
the door.

It was not until he was fairly plunged into the great sea
of the city, and had begun to be a little dazed by more lights
than he ever saw when he closed his eyes in bed, that he re-
membered he had disobeyed orders and broken his promise not
to go out. But even then, he told himself, he was not respon-
sible. He was Donna Roma's porter now. Therefore, he
couldn't be Joseph, could he?

So, with his magic mace in hand, the serious man of seven
marched on, and reconciled himself to his disobedience by
thinking nothing more about it. People looked at him and
smiled as he passed through the Piazza Madama where the
Senate House stands, and that made him lift his head and walk
on proudly, but as he went through the Piazza of the Pantheon
a boy who was coming out of a cook-shop with a tray on his
head, cried : " Helloa, kiddy ! playing Pulcinello ? " and that
dashed his worshipful dignity for several minutes.

It began to snow, and the white flakes on his gold braid
clouded his soul at first, but when he remembered that porters
had to work in all weathers, he wagged his sturdy head and

THE PRIME MINISTER 307

strode on. He was going to Donna Roma's according to her
invitation, and he found his way by his recollection of what
he had seen when he made the same journey on Sunday. Here
a tramcar coming round a corner, there a line of posts across
a narrow thoroughfare, and then a fat man with a gruff voice
shouting something at the door of a trattoria.

At the corner of a lane there was a shop window full of
knives and revolvers. He didn't care for knives — they cut
people's fingers — but he liked guns, and when he grew up to
be a man he would buy one and kill somebody.

Coming to the Piazza Monte Citorio, he remembered the
soldiers at the door of the House of Parliament, and the cellar
full of long guns with knives (bayonets) stuck on the ends of
their muzzles. One of the soldiers laughed, called him
" Uncle," and asked him something about enlisting, but he
only struck his mace firmly on the flags and marched on.

At the comer of the Piazza Colonna he had to wait some
time before he could cross the Corso, for the crowds were com-
ing both ways and the traffic frightened him. He had made
various little sorties and had been driven back when a soft
hand was slipped into his fat palm and he was piloted across
in safety. Then he looked up at his helper. It was a girl,
with big white feathers in her hat, and her face painted pink
and white like the face of the little Jesus in the cradle in
church at Christmas. She asked him what his name was and
he told her ; also where he was going, and he told her that too.
It was dark by this time, and the great little man was begin-
ning to be glad of company.

" Aren't you afraid of carrying that heavy stick ? " she
said.

It wasn't a stick, and he wasn't a bit tired of carrying it.

" But aren't you tired yourself? " she said, and he admitted
that perhaps it was so.

So she picked him up, and carried him in her arms while
he carried the mace, and for some minutes both were satisfied.
But presently some one in the Via Tritone cried out, " Helloa,
here comes the Blessed Bambino," whereupon his worshipful
dignity was again wounded and he wriggled to the ground.

It began to thunder and there were some flashes of light-
ning, whereupon Joseph shuddered and crept closer to the
girl's side.

" Are you afraid of lightning, Joseph ? " she asked.

He wasn't. He often saw it at home when he went to bed.

308 THE ETERNAL CITY

His motlier held his hand and he covered up his head in the
clothes, and then he liked it.

The girl took the wee, fat hand again, and the little feet
toddled on.

After vain efforts to snatch a kiss, which were defeated by a
proper withdrawal of the manly head in the cocked hat, the girl
with the feathers and the doll's face left him in the Via due
Macelli under a bright electric lamp that hung over the door
of a cafe-chantant.

Joseph knew then that he was not far from Donna Roma's,
and he began to think of what he would do when he got there.
If the big porter at the door tried to stop him he would say,
" I'm a little Roman boy," and the man would have to let him
go up. Then he would take charge of the hall, and when he
had not to open the door he would play with the dog, and some-
times with Donna Roma.

With sound practical sense he thought of his wages. Would
it be a penny a week or twopence? He thought it would be
twopence. Men didn't work for nothing nowadays. He had
heard his father say so.

Then he remembered his mother, and his lip began to drop.
But it rose again when he told himself that of course she would
come every night to put him to bed as iisual. " Good-night,
mamma! See you in the morning," he would say, and when
he opened his eyes it would be to-morrow.

He was feeling sleepy now, and do what he would he could
hardly keep his eyes from closing. But he was in the Piazza
di Spagna by this time, and his little feet in their top-boots be-
gan to patter up the snowy steps.

There are three principal landings to the Spanish Steps,
and the great little man of seven had reached the second of
them when a noise in the streets below made him stop and turn
his head.

A great crowd, carrying hundreds of torches, was marching
into the piazza. They were singing, shouting, and blowing
whistles and trumpets. It was like Befana in the Piazza
ISTavona, and when Joseph blinked his eyes he almost thought
he was at hoiue in bed.

All at once silence — then soldiers — then a jump all over
his body like that which came to him when he was falling asleep
— then a sense of something warm — then a buzzing noise —
then a boom like that of the gun of St. Angelo at dinner-
time . . . then a deep, familiar voice calling and calling to

THE PRIME MINISTER 309

him, and his eyes opened for a moment and saw his fa-
ther's face.

" Good-night, papa ! So sleepy ! See you in the morning ! "

And then nothing more.

While Elena waited for Bruno's return with little Joseph,
she went up and downstairs between David Rossi's apartment
and her own on all manner of invented errands. Meantime she
tried to keep down her anxiety by keeping up her anger. Joseph
was so worrisome. When he came home he would have to
be whipped and sent to bed without his supper. It was true his
verdura was ready on the stove, but he must not be allowed to
touch it. You really must be strict with children. They
would like you all the better for it when they grew up to be
men and women.

But every moment broke down this brave severity, until the
desire to punish Joseph for his disobedience was all gone. She
stood at the head of the stairs and listened for his voice and his
little pattering feet. If she had heard them, her anxious ex-
pression would have given way to a cross look and she would
have scolded both father and son all the way up to bed. But
they did not come, and she turned to the dining-room with a
downcast face.

" Where can the boy be ? If I could only have him back !
I will never let him out of my sight again. !Rever ! "

David Rossi, who was walking in the sitting-room to
calm his nerves after a trying time, tried to comfort her. It
would be all right. Depend upon it, Joseph had gone up
to Donna Roma's. She was to remember what Bruno told
them on Sunday. " The little Roman boy." Joseph had
thought of nothing else for three days, and this being his birth-
day . . .

" You think so ? You really think . . ."

"I'm sure of it. Bruno will be back presently, carrying
Joseph on his back. Or perhaps Donna Roma will send the boy
home in the carriage, and the great little man will come up-
stairs like the Mayor. Meantime she has kept him to play
with, and . . ."

" Yes, that must be it," said Elena, with shining eyes. " The
Signorina must have kept him to play with ! He must be play-
ing now with the Signorina ! "

At that moment through the open door there came the
sound of a heavy tread on the stairs, mingled with various

310 THE ETERNAL CITY

voices. Elena's shining face suddenly clouded, and Rossi, who
read her thought, went out on to the landing. Bruno was com-
ing up the staircase with something in his arms, and behind
him were the Garibaldian and his old wife and a line of
strangers.

Rossi ran down two flights of the stairs and met them. He
saw everything as by a flash of lightning. The boy lay in his
father's arms. He was white and cold, with his head fallen
back, and his hair matted with flakes of snow. His gay coat
was open, and his little stained shirt was torn out at the breast.
A stranger coming behind was carrying the cocked hat
and mace.

Elena, who was at the head of the stairs by this time, was
screaming.

" Keep her away, sir," said Bruno. The poor fellow was
trying to be brave and strong, but his voice was like a voice
from the other side of an abyss.

They took the boy into the dining-room, and laid him on a
sofa. There was no keeping the mother back. She forced her
way through, and laid hold of the child.

" Get away, he's mine," she cried fiercely.

And then she dropped on her knees before the boy, threw
her arms about him and called on him by his name.

" Joseph ! Speak to me ! Open your eyes and speak ! . . .
What have you been doing with my child? He is ill. Why
don't you send for a doctor ? Don't stand there like fools. Go
for a doctor, I tell you . . . Joseph ! Only a word ! . . . Have
you carried him home without his hat on? And it's snowing
too! He'll get his death of cold . . . what's this? Blood on
his shirt? And a wound? Look at this red spot. Have they
shot him ? No, no, it's impossible ! A child ! Joseph ! Joseph !
Speak to met . . . Yes, his heart is beating." She was press-
ing her ear to the boy's breast. " Or is it only the beating in
my head? Oh, where is the doctor? Why don't you send
for him ? "

They could not tell her it was useless, that a doctor
had seen the child already, and that all was over. All they
could do was to stand around her with awe in their faces.
She understood them without words. Her hair fell from
its knot, and her eyes began to blaze like the eyes of a
maniac.

" They've killed my child ! " she cried. " He's dead ! My
little boy is dead ! Only seven and it was his birthday ! Oh,

THE PRIME MINISTER 311

God! My child! What had he done that they should kill
him?"

And then Bruno, who was standing by with a wild lustre in
his eyes, said between his teeth, " Done ? Done nothing but
live under a government of murderers and assassins."

The room filled with people. Neighbours who had never
before set foot in the rooms came in without fear, for death
was among them. They stood silent for the most part, only
handing round the table the little cocked ■ hat and the mace,
with sighs and deep breathing. But some one speaking to Rossi
told him what had happened. It was at the Spanish Steps.
The Delegate gave the word, and the Carabineers fired over the
people's heads. But they hit the child and made him cold. His
little- heart had bui-st.

" And I was going to whip him," said Elena. " Not a min-
ute before I was talking about the rod, and not giving him his
supper. Oh, God, I can never forgive myself."

And then the blessed tears came and she wept bitterly.

David Rossi put his arms about her and her head fell on to
his breast. All barriers were broken down, and she clung to
him and cried. He smoothed her hair and comforted her, say-
ing in a low and tremulous voice, " ' He will gather his lambs
in his arms and carry them in his bosom.' "

The strangers dropped their heads and began to go away.
" Who says man says misery," said the Garibaldian, as he wiped
his rheumy eyes, and gently pushed the people out. His old
wife, who had taken charge of the hat and mace, was being
comforted by some women near the door. " He was so full of
fun," she said. " ' Grandma,' he used to say . . ." but she
could go no further. " Well, we all of us come into the
world crying, and none of us go out smiling," the women an-
swered.

Just then there were cries in the piazza. " Hurrah for the
Revolution ! " and " Down with the destroyers of the people I "
came in the woolly tones of voices shouting in the snow. Some-
body on the stairs explained that a young man was going about
waving a bloody handkerchief, and that the sight of it was ex-
asperating the people to frenzy. Women were marching
through the streets, and the entire city was on the point of
insurrection.

In the dining-room the stricken ones were still standing by
the couch. Presently there was a sound of singing outside. A
great crowd was coming into the piazza singing the Garibaldi

312 THE ETERNAL CITY

hymn. Bruno heard it, and the wild lustre in his eyes gave
place to a look of savage joy. An awful oath burst from his
lips, and he ran out of the house. At the next moment he was
heard in the street, singing in a thundering voice:

" The tombs are uncovered.
The dead arise,
The martyrs are rising
Before ovir eyes. "

The old Garibaldian threw up his head like a war-horse at
the call of battle, and his rickety limbs were going towards
the door.

" Stay here, father," said Rossi, and the old man obeyed
hini.

Elena was quieter by this time. She was sitting by the
child and stroking his little icy hand.

David Kossi, who had hardly si^oken, went into his bedroom.
His lips were tightly pressed together, his eyes were bloodshot
and his breath was labouring hard in his heaving breast. The
white heat of the despairing man was terrible.

" I can bear no more of it," he thought. " I have tried all
peaceful means in vain. The man must die . . . and I must kill
him ! "

He took up his dagger paper-knife, tried its point on his
palm with two or three reckless thrusts and threw it back on
the desk. Then he went down on his hands and knees and rum-
maged among the newspapei"s lying' in heaps under the window.
At last he found what he looked for. It was the six-chambered
revolver which had been sent to him as a present. " I'll kill
the man like a dog," he thought.

He loaded the revolver, put it in his breast pocket, went
back to the sitting-room, and made ready to go out.

" Look ! " said Elena, as he passed through the dining-room.
She had been turning out the boy's pockets, and was crying over
his little treasures as they came up one by one — a cork, a peb-
ble, a rusty nail, and a piece of string.

It was more than Rossi could bear, and without looking,
he turned to the door.

" I'll not be long," he said. Something in his voice made
Elena lift her eyes, and when she saw him it was almost as if
another man stood before her.

"Ml-. Rossi! . . . Brother . . . What are you going to do?"
she cried, but he was gone before the words were spoken.

THE PRIME MINISTER 313

Ten was striking on the different clocks of the city. Felice
had lit the stove in the boudoir and the wood was burning in
fitful blue and red flames. There was no other light in the
room, and Roma lay with her body on the floor, and her face
buried on the couch.

The world outside was full of fearful and unusual noises.
Snow was still falling, and the voices heard through it had a
peculiar sound of sobbing. The soft rolling of thunder came
from a long way off, like the boom of a slow wave on a distant
sand-bank. At intervals there was the crackle of musketry, like
the noise of rockets sent up in the night, and soiuetimes there
were pitiful cries, smothered by the unreverberating snow, like
the cries of a drowning man on a foundering ship at sea.

Roma, face downward, heard these sounds in the lapses of
a terrible memory. She was seeing, as in a nightmare, the inci-
dents of a night that was hardly six weeks past. One by one
the facts flashed back upon her with a burning sense of shame,
and she felt herself to be a sinner and a criminal.

It was the night of the Royal ball at the Quirinal. The
blaze of lights, the glitter of jewels, the brilliant throng of
handsome men and lovely women, the clash of music, the whi rl
of dancing, and finally the smiles and compliments of the
King. Then going home in the carriage in the early morning,
swathed in furs over her thin white silk, with the Baron, in
his decorations worn diagonally over his white breast, and
through the glass the waning moon, the silent stars, the empty
streets.

Then this room, this couch, sinking down on it, very tired,
with eyes smiling and half closed, and nearly gone already into
the mists of sleep. And then the Baron at her feet, pressing
his lips to her wrist where the pulse was beating, kissing her
arms and shoulders ..." Oh, dear ! You are mad ! I must no,^
listen to you. Let me go ! " And then burning words of love
and passion : " My wife ! My wife that is to be." ..." Oh,
God, what will become of me ? I hate you ! " . . . And then
the call of her aunt from the adjoining chamber, "Roma!"
I'inally, with a long shudder, making no answer to the caress-
ing voice at her ear, going out of the room, trembling and
silent, like one who had passed through an earthquake, the
human earthquake that lays bare the secret of sex.

The sobbing sounds from outside broke in on Roma's night-
21

314 THE ETERNAL CITY

mare, and when the chain of memory linked on again it was
morning in her vision, and tlie Countess was comforting her in
a whimpering voice.

" After all, God is merciful, and there are things that
happen to everybody that can be atoned for by prayer and
penance. Besides, the Baron is a man of honour, and the poor
maniac can't last much longer."

The sobbing sounds in the snow, the cries far away, the
crackle of the rifle-shots, the rumble of the thunder broke in
again, and the elements outside seemed to whirl round her in
the tempest of her trouble. For a moment she lifted her head
and heard voices in the next room.

The Baron was still there, and from time to time, as he
wrote his despatches, messengers came to take them away, to
bring rejilies and to deliver the latest news of the night. The
populace had risen in all parts of the city, and the soldiers had
charged them. There had been several misadventures and
many arrests. The large house of detention by St. Andrea delle
Fratte was already full, but the people continued to hold out.
They had disconnected the gas at the gasometer and cut the
electric wires, and the city was plunged in darkness.

" Tell the electric light company to turn on the flash-light
from Monte Mario," said the Baron.

And when the voices ceased in the drawing-room there came
the deadened sound of the Countess's frightened treble behind
the wall.

"Oh, Holy Virgin, full of grace, save me! It would be a
sin to let me die to-night ! Ploly Virgin, see ! I have given
thee two more candles. Art thou not satisfied ? Save me from
murder. Mother of God."

Roma saw another phase of her vision. It was filled with a
new face, which made her at once happy and unhappy,proud and
ashamed. Hitherto the only condition on which she had been
able to live with the secret of her life was that she should think
nothing about it. 'Now she was compelled to think, and she
was asking herself if it was her duty to confess.

Before she married David Rossi she must tell him every-
thing. She saw herself trying to do so. He was looking
vacantly before him with the deep furrow that came into his
forehead when he was strongly moved. She had sobbed out her
story, telling all, excusing nothing, and now she was waiting
for him to speak. He would take her side, he would tell her
she had been more sinned against than sinning, that she had

THE PRIME MINISTER 315

been young and alone at the mei'cy of an evil man, and that
her will had not consented.

At last he spoke, " I thought the daughter of Joseph Eoselli
would have starved first ! " She began to sob, but he showed
no mercy. " I thought my little Eoma . . ." he said, and
then she heard no more, for his voice was thick, and her own
sobs were stifling her. After that he looked at her with swim-
ming eyes, and she thought his heart would fight for her. But
no ! " Why did you come to me and tell that lie ? " he said,
and then she could go no further. She could not confess to the
plot to capture and degrade him. Her heart was bursting, but
when she touched him he seemed to shrink away. " Well, there's
no help for it ! Good-night ! " he said, and then the world was
a blank, life was gone, and everything was dust and ashes.

" No, no ! It is impossible ! " she cried aloud, and, startled
by the sound of her voice, the Baron came into the room.

" My dear child ! " he said, and he picked her up from the
floor. " I shall never be able to forgive myself if you take
things like this. Every tear you shed will burn my flesh like
fire. Come now, dry these beautiful eyes and be calm."

" I have come to a decision," she said. " It may be sudden,
but it is irrevocable, therefore do not try to alter it. I am
going away."

" Yes, yes," he answered, " but don't let us talk of that now.
You are disturbed. Things have happened so suddenly. By-
and-bye you will be better and then everything will seem dif-
ferent."

" My life here is at an end and I must go away. It has been
wrong and false, and I am determined to put an end to it. I do
not blame you more than myself, but I am ashamed of what has
happened and I cannot bear to think of it any longer."

" This comes of sleeplessness, my child. Confess, now, that
you have not been sleeping lately. Sleep, a little sleep, and all
the world is changed.".

She did not listen to him, but leaning on the stove and fin-
gering with one hand the frame of her father's picture which
hung above it, she said :

" I see now that hapijiness was not for me. There must
be some punishment for every sin, however little one has been
guilty of it, and perhaps this is God's way of asking for an
expiation. It is very, xcry hard ... it seems more than I de-
serve . . . and heavier than I can bear . . . but there is no
help for it."

316 THE ETERNAL CITY

The tears she brushed from her eyes seemed to be gathering
in her throat.

" The bitterest part of it is that I must make others suffer
for it also. He must suffer who has loved and trusted me. His
love for me, my love for him, this has been dragging him down
since the first day I knew him. Perhaps he is in prison by
this time."

Sobs interrupted her for a moment, and in a caressing tone
the Baron tried to comfort her. It was natural that she
shovild feel troubled, very natural and very womanly. But time
was the great remedy for human ills. It would heal every-
thing.

" Well, everything seems to be over now," she said. " I will
not trouble anybody much longer. I will break with the past
altogether, and leave everything behind me. In any case I
must have left this place soon. I am in debt to the landlord
and to Madame Sella and to ... to everybody. Perhaps when
I am gone you will send somebody to settle up. I will take
nothing with me but the dress I stand in. The jewelry, the
hors^es and the carriage, and the furniture will bring some-
thing. Do as you please with what I have, and if there is any-
thing short perhaps you Avill make it up in memory of all that
has haiipencd. You will have nothing more to pay out of
my father's estate, anyway . . .

" I shall be sorry to leave my aunt, although she has not
been good company, and we have never been friends. But she
will be better off in her last days under your protection, and
she may come to think more kindly of me by-and-bye. If not, I
can't help it now. I will go aAvay to-morrow to begin a new
life, and may God forgive me, and help me to purge my soul of
the stain of the past."

Her voice failed her, and she broke down once more.

" Eoma," said the Baron, " you are not well. When we
meet again. . . ."

" We can never meet again where I am going to."

She raised her beautiful eyes and he understood in a mo-
ment.

"Do you mean that?" he asked.

She bowed her head.

"You intend to bury yourself in a convent?"

" If they will have me — yes. It is my only refuge now.
Where else can I hide myself? When a woman cannot look
into the face of the one she loves . . . when she has brought

THE PRIME MINISTER 317

grief and pain and imprisonment on him who loves her
best . . ."

" Roma," said the Baron, " / love you too. Do you forget
that ? I love you, and I will not think of losing you."

The impassive man had undergone a change. He was try-
ing to ijut his arms about her. She was holding him off.

" I do not wish to reproach you, but I cannot listen to
you," she said. " You must think of me as one who is
dead."

" But I don't mean to think of you as one who is dead.
I want you — you — you! I want your living heart to answer
to my heart. I want the breath of your hair, and the light of
your eyes, and the kiss of your lips. You shall not go into a
convent. When heaven has given a young woman beauty and
gifts like yours she has no right to bury them in a cell. I re-
fuse to think of it. And then I have waited for you so long!
Is it nothing that before this man came into your life I was
with you always? Think of your childhood . . . Have you
anything to reproach me with in the care I took of you then?
And now that you are a woman what do I want but to put you
where your beauty and your gifts give you the right to be —
ahead of every woman in Italy who does not sit upon a throne."

Again he tried to put his arms about her, and again she
held him off, but with a feebler hand than before.

" Roma, you have wounded and humiliated and insulted me,
but you are the only woman in the world I would give one
straw to have. I will make you the wife of the Dictator of
Italy, and when all these troubles are over and you are great
and have forgotten what has taken place . . ."

" I can never forget and I don't want to be great. I only
want to be good. Leave me ! "

" You are good. You have always been good. What hap-
pened was my fault alone and you have nothing to reproach
yourself with. I found you growing up to be a great woman,
and passing out of my legal control, while I was bound down to
a poor, helpless, living corpse. Some day you would meet a
younger, freer man, and you would be lost to me for good.
Wasn't it human to try to hold you to me until the time came
when I could claim you altogether? And if meanwhile this
man has interposed . . ."

He pointed to the bust on the pedestal. She looked up at
it, and then dropped her head.

" Say no more," she said. " I could not marry you, because

318 THE ETEKNAL CITY

I do not love you. But my will is broken — I have no more
strength — leave me alone."

He allowed a moment to elapse, and when he spoke again
he had regained his old impassive manner.

" Put the man out of your mind, my dear, and all will be
well. Probably he is in the hands of the authorities already,
God grant it may be so! No fear of his arrest this time! It
cannot be complicated by the danger of scandal. Nobody else's
name and character will be concerned in it. And if it serves to
dispose of a dangerous man and a subversive politician I am
willing to let everything else sleep."

lie paused a moment, and then added in his most incisive
accents. " But if not, the law must take its course, and David
Leone must complete what David Rossi has begun."

At that moment Felice's dark form stood against the light
in the open door.

" Commendatore Angelelli and Charles Minghelli, Excel-
lency."

As the Baron went back to the drawing-room Roma re-
turned to the window. Scales of snow adhered to the glass, and
it was difficult to see anything outside. But the masses of
shadow and sheets of light were gone, and the city lay in utter
darkness. The sobbing sounds, the crackle of musketry and
the rumble of thunder were all gone, and the air was empty and
void.

At one moment there was a soft patter as of a flock of
sheep passing under the window in the darkness. It was a com-
pany of riflemen going at a quick march over the snow with
torches and lanterns.

Voices came from the next room and Roma found herself
listening.

" Apparently the insurrection is suppressed, your Excel-
lency."

" I congratulate you."

^' The soldiers are patrolling the streets, and all is quiet."

"Good!"

" We have some hundreds of rioters in the houses of de-
tention, and the military courts will begin to sit to-morrow
morning."

" Excellent ! "

" The misadventures have been few and unimportant — the
child I spoke of being the only one killed."

" You have discovered whose child it was ? "

THE PRIME MINISTER 31^

"Yes. Unluckily ..."

Roma felt dizzy. A thought had flashed upon her.

" It is the child of Donna Roma's man, Bruno Rocco, and
apparently . . ."

A choking cry rang through the room. Was it herself who
made it'^

" Go on, Commendatore. Apparently . . ."

" The child was dressed in some carnival costume, and ap-
parently he was on his way to this house."

Roma's dizziness increased, and to save herself from falling
she caught at a side-table that stood under the bust.

On this table were some sculptor's tools — a chisel and a
small mallet, with which she had been working.

There was an interval in which the voices were deadened
and confused. Then they became clear and sharp as before.

" But the most important fact you have not yet given me.
I trust you are only saving it up for the last. The Deputy
Rossi is arrested ? "

" Unfortunately . . . no. Excellency."

"No?"

" He left home immediately after the outbreak, and has not
been seen since. Presently the flash-light will be turned on by
a separate battery from Monte Mario, and every corner of the
city shall be searched. But we fear he is gone."

"Gone?"

" Perhaps by the train that left just before the signal."

Roma felt a cry rising to her throat again, but she put
up her hand to keep it down.

" No matter ! Commendatore, send telegrams after the
train to all stations up to the frontier, with orders that nobody
is to alight until every carriage has been overhauled. Min-
ghelli, go to the Consulta immediately, and ask the Minister of
Foreign Affairs to despatch a portrait of Rossi to every for-
eign Government."

" But no portrait exists. Excellency. It was a difficulty I
found in England."

" Yes, there is a portrait. Come this way."

Roma felt the room going round as the Baron came into it
and switched on the light.

" There is the only portrait of the illustrious Mr. Deputy,
and our hostess will lend it to be photographed."

"Never! " said Roma, and taking up the mallet, she struck
the bust a heavy blow, and it fell in fragments to the floor.

320 THE -ETERNAL CITY

Half an hour afterwards Roma was sitting amid the wreck
of her work when the Baron, wearing his fur-lined overcoat and
pulling on his gloves, came into the boudoir.

" I am compelled," he said, " to inflict my presence upon
you for a moment longer in order to tell you what my attitude
in the future is to be, and what feelings are to guide me. I
will continue to think of you as my wife according to the law
of nature, and of the man who has come between us as your
lover. I will not give you uj) to him whatever happens; and if
he tries to take you away, or if you try to go to him, you
must be prepared to find that I offer every resistance. Two
passions are now engaged against the man, and I will not shrink
from any course that seems necessary to subdue either him or
you, or both."

" Do what you please," she answered. " Degrade me, drag
me in the dust, if you like, but you will not make me help you
to destroy David Rossi, whatever you do."

" We shall see. I have conquered worse obstacles, and —
who knows? — perhaps in this instance Nature herself will fight
for nie to call you back to your true place and your duty."

An involuntary shudder passed over her, and she looked at
him with frightened eyes.

" Meantime, my child, remember that in my eyes you are
as pure as a Madonna — always have been, always will be. Good-
night ! "

A moment afterwards she heard the patrol challenging him
on the piazza. Then " Pardon, Excellency," and the soft swish
of carriage wheels in the snow.

XI

When Rossi left home he was like a raging madman. His
knees tottered under him and a misty vapour filled his eyes, but
his heart was alive wdth rage and hatred.

lie made straight for the Palazzo Braschi at the other side
of the piazza, and going up the marble staircase on limbs that
could scarcely support him, his thoughts went back in a broken
maze to the scene he had left behind.

" Our little boy dead ! Dead in his mother's arms ! Oh,
God, let me meet the man face to face! . . . Our innocent
darling! The light of our eyes put out in a moment! Our
sweet little Joseph! . . •. Shall there be no retribution? God

THE PRIME MINISTER 321

forbid ! The man who has been the chief cause of this crime
shall be the first to sutler ijunishment ! No use wasting time on
the hounds who executed his orders. They are only delegates
of police, and over them is this Minister of the Interior. He
alone is responsible, and he is here ! "

When he reached the green baize door to the hall he
stopped to wipe away the perspiration which stood on his fore-
head although his face was flecked with snow. The messengers
looked scared when he stepped inside, and they answered his
questions with obvious hesitation. The Minister was not in his
cabinet. He had not been there that night. It was possible the
Honourable might find his Excellency at home.

Kossi turned on his heel instantly, and went hurriedly
downstairs. He would go to the Palazzo Leone. There was
no time to lose. Presently the man would hide himself in the
darkness like a toad under a stone.

As he left the Ministry of the Interior he heard the singing
of the Garibaldi hymn in the distance, and turning into the
Corso Victor Emmanuel, he came upon crowds of people and
some noisy and tumultuous scenes.

One group had broken into a gun shop and seized rifles and
cartridges; another group had taken possession of two electric
tramcars, and tumbled them on their sides to make a barri-
cade across the street; and a third group was tearing up the
street itself to use its stones for missiles. " Our turn now,"
they were shouting, and there were screams of delirious
laughter.

As Rossi crossed the bridge of St. Angelo the cannon was
fired from the Castle, and he knew that it was meant for a sig-
nal. " No matter ! " he thought. " It will be too late when the
soldiers arrive."

jSTotwithstanding the tumult in the city the Piazza of St.
Peter's was silent and deserted. Not the sound of a footfall,
not the rattle of a carriage-wheel; only the drip-drip of the
fountains, whose waters were playing in the lamp-light through
the falling snow, and the echoing hammer of the clock of the
Basilica.

The porter of the Palazzo Leone was asleep in his lodge,
and Rossi passed upstairs.

" I'll bring the man to justice now," he thought. " He im-
agined we were only tame cats and would submit to anything.
He was wrong. We'll show him we know how to punish tyrants.
Haven't we always done so, we Romans? He has a sharp

322 THE ETERNAL CITY

tongue for the people, but I have a sharper one here for
him."

And he felt for the revolver in his breast-pocket to make
certain it was there.

The lackey in knee-breeches and yellow stockings who an-
swered the inside bell was almost speechless at the sight of the
white face which confronted him at the door. No, the Baron
was not at home. He had not been there since early in the
evening. Had he gone to the Pref ettura ? Possibly ! Or the
Consulta? Perhaps.

" Which, man, which ? " said Rossi, and to say something
the lackey stammered " The Consulta," and closed the door.

Rossi set his face towards the Foreign Office. There was a
light in the stained-glass windows of the Pope's private chapel
— the Holy Father was at his prayers. A canvas-covered barrow
containing a man who had been injured by the soldiers, was
being carried into the Hospital of Santo Spirito, and a woman
and a child were walking and crying beside it.

The streets were covered with broken tiles which had been
thrown on to the heads of the cavah-y as they galloped through
the principal thoroughfares. Carabineers with revolvers in
hand were dragging themselves on their stomachs along the
roofs, trying to surprise the rioters who were hiding behind
chimney-stacks. Some one shouted : " Cut the electric wires ! "
and men were clambering up the tall posts and breaking the
electric lamps.

The Consulta — the office of the Minister of Foreign Affairs
— stands in the Piazza of the Quirinal, and when Rossi reached
it the great scjuare of the King was as silent as the great square
of the Pope had been.

Two sentries were in boxes on either side of the royal gate,
and one Carabineer was in the doorway. The gardens down the
long corridor lay dark in the shadows, but the fountain with
sculptured horses, the splashing water, and the front of the
building were white under the electric lamps as if from a daz-
zling moon.

Before turning into the silent courtyard of the Consulta,
Rossi paused and listened to the noises that came from the
city. Men were singing and women were screaming. The rat-
tle of musketry mingled with the cries of children. And over
all was the steady downfall of the snow, and the dull rumble
of distant thunder.

Rossi held his head between his hands to prevent his senses

THE PRIME MINISTER 323

from leaving him. His rage was ebbing away, and he was be-
ginning to tremble. Nevertheless, he forced himself to go on.
As he rang the bell at the Foreign Office, he was partly con-
scious of a secret desire that the Prime Minister might not be
there.

The porter was not sure. The Baron's carriage had just
gone. Let him ask on the telephone. . . . No, there had been a
messenger from the Minister of the Interior, but the Minister
himself had not been there that night.

Rossi took a long breath of relief and went away. He had
returned to the bright side of the piazza when the lights seemed
to be wiped out as though by an invisible wing, and the entire
city was plunged in darkness. At the next moment a squadron
of cavalry galloped up to the Quirinal, and the gates of the
royal palace and of the Consulta were closed.

Midnight struck.

For two hours the soldiers had been charging the crowds by
the light of lanterns and torches. They had arrested hundreds
of persons. Chained together, two and two, the insurgents had
been taken to the places of detention, amid the cries of their
women and children. " Who knows whether we shall see each
other again ! " said the prisoners, as they passed into the
" House of Pain." One old woman went on her knees to the
soldiers, and begged them to have pity on the people. " They
are your brothers, my sons," she cried.

One o'clock struck.

The streets were still dark, but a search-light from Monte
Mario was sweeijing over the city like a flash of a supernatural
eye. With tottering limbs, and his head on his breast, David
Rossi was walking down the Via due Macelli, towards the col-
umn of the Immaculate Conception, when a young girl spoke
to him.

" Honourable," she said, " is it true that the little boy is
dead? ... it is? Oh, dear! I met him in the Corso, and
brought him up as far as the Varietes, and if I had only taken
him all the way. . . . Oh, I shall never forgive myself ! "

Out of his comfortless heart he did his best to comfort her.
She had nothing to reproach herself with. It was God who had
done this, and little Joseph was in Heaven.

" I shall always think of that, Honourable," said the girl.
And then she lifted her poor face, painted like a doll's but
innocent as an angel's, and asked him if he would kiss hei".
He kissed her on the forehead, and she went her way.

324 THE ETERNAL CITY

Tlic city was quiet, and all was hushed on every side when
Kossi found himself on a flight of steps at the back of lioma's
apartment. I'rom these steps a door opened into the studio.
One panel of the door was glazed, and a light was shining from
within. Going cautiously forward, Rossi looked into the room.
Roma was seated on a stool, with her hands clasped in her
lap, and her hair hanging loose. She was very pale. Her face
expressed unutterable sadness.

Rossi listened for a moment, but there was not a sound
to be heard except that of the different clocks chiming the
quarter. Then he tapped lightly on the glass.

" Roma ! " he said in a low tone. " Roma ! "

She rose up and shrank back. Then coming to the door,
and shielding her eyes from the light, she put her face close to
the pane. At the next moment she threw the door open.

" It is you ? " she said in a tremulous voice, and taking his
hand she drew him hurriedly into the house.

XII

Ai'^i'iiu the Baron was gone, Roma had sat a long time in
thi: (lark among the ruins of the broken bust. Notwithstanding
her courageous bearing, she was consumed by fear. The great
fact remained. What the Baron had said was true. She knew
it was true. In her inmost heart she must always know it.
Therefore, if she married David Rossi there would be one
chamber of her heart which he could never enter. Would that
be love, trust, wedlock, comiilete surrender?

When twelve o'clock struck she was feeling hot and fever-
ish, and in spite of the coldness of the night she rose and
opened the windoAV. The snow had ceased to fall, the thun-
der was gone, and the city was quiet. Through the still air
came the soft swell of an organ and the faint sound of voices.
The nuns of Trinita de' Monti were singing their midnight
office.

Roma closed her eyes and listened. She could see and hear
everything. The dim church, the iron screen across it, the
lines of white figures, like ghosts, kneeling in the shadows, the
altar lit up by two or three small candles, and then the voice
of one of the nuns who was singing above the rest. How sweet !
How solemn ! Peace ! The Church was peace — peace and rest
after the noise and riot of life. If the sisters would receive

THE PRIME MINISTER 325

her, she would still go into the convent. It was her only hope
now, her only refuge.

She thought of Rossi. He was gone and he might never
hear what had befallen her, but perhaps he would come there
some day, and sit before the screen at Benediction, and hear
her voice as she heard the voice of the nun, and recognise her
by that and so learn everything. And then he would suffer.
There was a strange, sweet, secret, unfathomable joy in the
thought that Eossi would suffer when he found where she was
and what she had done.

Tears were falling on her hands as the singing ended. At
that moment the revolving searchlight on Monte Mario passed
over the room. The white flash lit up the broken fragments at
her feet, and brought a new train of reflections. The bust she
destroyed had been only the plaster cast; the piece-mould re-
mained and might be a cause of danger.

She closed the window, took a candle, and went down to the
studio to put the mould out of the way. She had done so and
was sitting to rest and to think when Rossi's knock came at
the door. In a moment all her dreams were gone. She was
clasped in his arms and had put up her mouth to be kissed.

"Is it you?"

" Roma ! "

It was not at first that she realised what was happening, that
they were together again, when all had seemed to be over. But
after a moment she recovered from her bewilderment, and ex-
tinguished the candle lest Rossi should be seen from outside.
Then she clung to him afresh, and he tightened his anns
about her.

They were in the dark, save at intervals when the revolving
light in its circuit of the city swept across the studio, and lit
up their faces as by a flash of lightning. He seemed to be
dazed. His weary eyes looked as if their light were almost
extinct.

" You are safe ? You are well ? " she asked.

" Oh, God, what sights ! " he said. " You have heard what
has happened ? "

" Yes, yes ! But you are not injured ? "

" The people were peaceful and meant no evil, but the
soldiers were ordered to fire, and our little boy is dead."

" Don't let us speak of it. . . . The police were told to arrest
you, but you have escaped thus far, and now . . ."

" Bruno is taken and hundreds of others are in prison."

326 THE ETERNAL CITY

"But you are safe? You are well? You are uninjured?"

" Yes," he answered, between his teeth, and then he cov-
ered his face with his hands. " God knows I did my best
to prevent this bloodshed: — I would have laid down my life
to prevent it."

" God does know it."

" Take this."

lie drew something from his breast-pocket and put it into
her hands.

It was the revolver.

" I cannot trust myself any longer."

" You haven't used it ? "

" No."

"Thank God!"

" I should have done so if I could have met the man face
to face."

"The Baron?"

" I searched for him everywhere, and couldn't find him.
God kept him out of my way to save me from sin and shame."

With a frightened cry she put down the revolver and
clasped her hands about his neck. He began to recover his
dazed senses and to smooth the hair on her damp forehead.

" My poor Roma ! You didn't think we were to part like
this?"

Her arms slackened and she dropped her head on to his
shoulder.

" Last night you told me to fly, and I wouldn't do so. There
was no man in Rome I was afraid of then. But to-night there
is some one I am afraid of. I am afraid of myself."

" You intend to go ? " she said, lifting her face.

"Yes! I shall feel like a captain who deserts his sinking
ship. Would to God I could have gone down with her ! . . . Yet
no ! " he cried impetuously. " She is not lost yet. Everything
is in God's hands. Perhaps there is work for me abroad now
that the paths are closed to me at home. Let us wait and
see."

They were both silent for a while.

" Then it's all over," she said, gulping down a sob.

" God forbid ! This black night in Rome is only the begin-
ning of the end. It will be the dawn of the resurrection every-
whei-e."

" But it is all over between you and me," she faltered.

" Indeed, no ! No, no ! I cannot take you with me. That is

THE PRIME MINISTER 327

impossible. I couldn't see yovi suffer hunger and tliii'st and the
privations of exile, but . . ."

" Our marriage cannot be celebrated now, and that being
so . . ."

" The banns are good for half a year, Roma, and before
that time I shall be back. Have no fear! The immortality
stirring beneath the ruins of this old city will give us victory
all over Italy. I will return and we shall be very happy. How
happy we shall be ! "

" Yes, yes," she brought out at intervals.

" Be brave, my girl, be brave ! "

" Yes, yes."

The revolving search-light flashed through the room at that
moment and she dropped her face again.

" Dearest," she said faintly, " if I should not be here when
you come back . . ."

He started and seized her arm.

" Roma, you cannot intend to submit to the will of that
man ? "

She shook her head as it rested on his shoulder.

" The man is a tyrant. He may put pressure upon you."

" It is not that."

" He may even make you suffer for my sake."

" Nor that either."

" By-and-bye he may require everybody to take an oath of
allegiance to the King."

" I have taken mine already- — to my King."

" Roma, if you wish me to stay I will do so in spite of
everything."

" I wish you to go, dearest."

" Then what is it you fear ? "

" Nothing — only . . ."

" But you are sad. Why is it ? "

" A foreboding. I feel as if we were parting for ever."

He passed his hands through her hair. " It may be so.
Only God can tell."

" It was too sweet dreaming. I was too happy for a little
while."

" If it must be, it must be. But let us be brave, dear ! We,
who take up a life like this, must learn renunciation . . . Cry-
ing, Roma ? "

" No ! Oh, no ! But renunciation ! That's it — renuncia-
tion." She could feel the beating of her heart against his

328 THE ETERNAL CITY

breast. " Love comes to everyone, but to some it comes too
late, and then it comes in vain." She was striving to keep
down her sobs. " They have only to conquer it and renounce it,
and to pray God to unite thorn to their loved ones in another
life." She was choking, but she struggled on. " Sometimes I
think it must be my lot to be like that. Other women may
dream of love and home and children . . ."

" Don't unman me, Roma."

" Dearest, promise me that whatever happens you will think
the best of me."

" Roma ! "

" Promise me that whoever says anything to the contrary
you will always believe I loved you."

" Why should we talk of what can never happen ? "

" If we are parting for ever ... if we are saying a long
farewell to all earthly affections, promise me ..."

" For God's sake, Roma ! "

" Promise me ! " she cried in a voice of pitiful entreaty.

" I promise ! " he said. " And you? "

" I promise too — I promise that as long as I live, and wher-
ever I am and whatever becomes of me, I will . . . yes, because
1 cannot help it ... I will love you to the last."

Saying this in passionate tones, she drew down his head,
and he met her kiss with his lips.

" [t is our marriage, Rossi. Others are married in church,
and by the hand, and with a wedding. We are married in our
spirits and our souls."

A long time passed during which they did not speak. The
searcli-light flashed in on them again and again with its super-
natural eye, and as often as it did so Rossi looked at her with
strange looks of pity and of love.

Meantime, she cut a lock from her hair, tied it with a piece
of ribbon, and put it in his pocket with his watch. Then she
dried her eyes with her handkerchief, and pushed it in
his breast.

The night went on, and nothing was to be heard but the
chiming of clocks outside. At length through the silence there
came a muffled rumble from the streets.

" You must go now," she said, and when the next flash
came round she looked up at him with a steadfast gaze,
as if trying to gather into her eyes the last memories of his
face.

" Adieu ! "

THE PRIME MINISTER 329

" Not yet."

" It is still dark, but the streets are patrolled and every
gate is closed, and how are you to escape . . ."

" If the soldiers had wished to take me they could have done
so a hundred times."

" But the city is stirring. Be careful for my sake. Adieu ! "

" Roma," said Rossi, " if I do not take you with me it is
partly because I want your help in Rome."

Roma was seized with sudden palpitation.

" Think of "the poor people I leave behind me in poverty
and in prison. Think of Elena when she awakes in the morn-
ing, alone with her terrible grief. Some one should be here to
represent me for a time at all events — to take the messages
I must send, the instructions I will have to give. It will be a
dangerous task, Roma, a task that can only be undertaken by
some one who loves me, some one who . . ."

" That is enough. Tell me what I can do," she said, and
she whispered to herself, '' I can wait."

They arranged a channel of correspondence, and then Roma
began her adieux afresh.

" Roma," said Rossi again, " since I must go away before
our civil marriage can be celebrated, is it not best that our
spiritual one should have the authority and blessing of the
Church?"

Roma looked at him and trembled.

" When I am gone God knows what may happen. The
Baron may be a free man any day, and he may put pressure on
you to marry him. In that case it will be strength and courage
to you to know that in God's eyes you are married already. It
will be happiness and comfort to me, too, when I am far away
from you, and alone."

" But it is impossible."

" JiTot so. A declaration before a parish priest is all that
is necessary. * Father, this is rny wife.' ' This is my husband.'
That is enough. It will have no value in the eye of the law,
but it will be a religious marriage for all that."

" There is no time. You cannot wait . . ."

" Hush ! " The clocks were striking three. " At three
o'clock there is mass at St. Andrea delle Fratte. That is your
parish church, Roma, The priest and his acolyte are the only
witnesses we require."

" If you think . . . that is to say ... if it will make you
happy, and be a strength to me also. . . ."
22

330 THE ETERNAL CITY

" Kun for your cloak and hat, dearest — in ten minutes it
will be done."

" But think again." She was breathing audibly. " Who
knows what may happen before your return? Will you never
repent ? "

"^ever!"

" But . . . but there is something . . . something I ought
to tell you — something painful. It is about the past."

" The past is passed. Let us think of the future."

" Yon do not wish to hear it ? "

" If it is painful to you — no ! "

" Will nothing and nobody divide us ? "

" Nothing and nobody in the world."

She gulped down another choking sob and threw both arms
about his neck.

" Take me then. I am your wife before God and man."

XIII

It was still dark overhead and the streets with their thin
covering of snow were as silent as a catacomb. Through the
door of the church, when the leather covering was lifted, there
came the yellow light of the candles burning on the altar. The
priest in his gold vestments stood with his face to the glisten-
ing shrine and his acolyte knelt beside him. There was only
one worshipper, an old woman who was kneeling before a chair
in the gloom by a side chapel. The tinkle of the acolyte's bell,
and the faint murmur of the priest's voice, were the only sounds
that broke the stillness.

Rossi and Roma stepped up on tiptoe, and as the Father
finished his mass and turned to go they made their declaration.
The old man was startled and disturbed, but the priest commits
no crime who listens to the voice of conscience, and he took
their names and gave them his blessing. They parted at the
church door.

" You will write when you cross the frontier ? "

" Yes."

" And you will be faithful to all your promises ? "

" Yes."

" Adieu, then, until we meet again ! "

" If I am long away from you, Roma . . ."

THE PRIME MINISTER 331

" You cannot be long away. You will be with me every day
and always."

She was assuming a lively tone to keep up his courage, but
there was a dry glitter in her eyes and a tremor in her voice.

" When I go to bed at night I shall be thinking of you, when
I am asleep I shall be dreaming of you, and when I awake in the
morning I shall be thinking of you again."

He took her full, round, lovely form in his arms for a last
embrace. " If the result of this night's work is that I am ar-
rested, and brought back and imprisoned . . ."

" I can wait for you," she said.

" If I am banished for life ..."

" I can follow you."

" If the worst comes to the worst, and one way or another
death itself should be the fate that falls to me . . ."

" I can follow you there, too."

" If we meet again we can laugh at all this, Roma."

" Yes, we can laugh at all this," she faltered.

" If not . . . Adieu ! "

"Adieu!"

She disengaged her clinging arms, with one last caress;
there was an instant of unconsciousness, and when she recov-
ered herself, he was gone.

At the next moment there came through the darkness the
measured tramp, tramp, tramp of the patrol. With a quivering
heart, Eoma stood and listened. There was a slight movement
among the soldiers, a scarcely perceptible pause, and then the
tramp, tramp, tramp as before. Rossi looked back as he turned
the corner, and saw Roma, in her light cloak, gliding across
the silent street like a ghost.

Three or four hundred yards inside the gate of St. John
Lateran, in one of the half -finished tenement houses on the out-
skirts of Rome, there is a cellar used as a resting-place and
eating-house by the carriers from the country who bring wine
into the city. This cellar was the only place that seemed to be
awake when Rossi walked towards the city walls. The door was
open, and the light of a wood fire burning on an open hearth,
like the hearth of a smithy, came out to him as he passed along
the street. He stepped up and looked do^vn. Some eight or
nine men, in the rude dress of wine-carriers, with loose shirts
and white waistbands, the ends of their trousers tucked into
their top-boots, and their red-lined overcoats scattered about
them, lay dozing or talking on the floor. They had been kept

332 THE ETERNAL CITY

in Rome overnight by the closing of the gate, and were waiting
for it to be opened in the morning.

Without a moment's hesitation David Rossi stepped down
and spoke to the men.

" Gentlemen," he said, " you know me. I am Rossi. The
police have orders to arrest me. Will you help me to get out
of Rome?"

" What's that ? " shouted a drowsy voice from the smoky
shadows of the cellar.

" It's the Honourable Rossi," said a lad who had shambled
up. •* The oysters are after him, and will we help him to
escape."

" Will we ? It's not will we, it's can we. Honourable," said
a thick-set man, who lifted his head from an upturned horse-
saddle.

In a moment the men were all on their feet, asking questions
and discussing chances. The gate was to be opened at six, and
the first train north was to go out at half-past nine. But
the difiiculty was that everybody in Rome knew Rossi. Even
if he got through the gate, he could not get on to the train
within ten miles of the city without the certainty of recog-
nition.

" I have it ! " said the thick-set man with the drowsy voice.
" There's young Carlo. He got a scratch in the leg last night
from one of the wet nurses of the Government, and he'll have
to lie upstairs for a week at least. Why can't he lend his
clothes to the Honourable? And why can't the Honourable
drive his cart back to Monte Rotondo, and then go where he
likes when he gets there ? "

" That will do," said Rossi, and so it was settled.

A few minutes before six o'clock, a line of wine-carts drove
up to the gate of St. John Lateran.

In the little hooded seats, each like the arc of a moon, sat the
drivers in their red-lined overcoats, their white waistband, blue
trousers and top-boots, with their empty barrels built up be-
hind them, and their little watch-dogs barking by their sides.

The lad drove first, the thick-set man with the drowsy voice
came next, and then came David Rossi.

The sky was still dark and leaden-hued, but a smell of dawn
was in the air, and the street vendors were beginning to cry.

Half a dozen officers in uniform stood by the open gate,
some with steel rods in their hands, others with rifles and
bayonets. One of the officers held an open note-book and by a

THE PRIME MINISTER 333

light from the window of the custom-house lodge he took the
names of all who left the city.

This was an unusual precaution and the carriers were not
prepared for it.

When Rossi was asked for his name he hesitated.

" Your name — don't you hear me ? " shouted the officer.

The stiff-set man with the drowsy voice came to Rossi's
rescue. " Carlo ! " he called back, " Carlo Conti, the gentleman
is asking you for your name." And then turning to the of-
ficer, he touched his ear and said : " Deaf, sir," and lurched
his finger over his shoulder.

" Go on," said the officer, and Rossi passed through.

The day dawned, and as Rossi drove in the line of tinkling
wine-carts, he looked back on Rome. The city was entirely cov-
ered with snow. In the morning mist which enveloped the hills
around, it lay like a dead thing under a shroud. Domes, spires,
cupolas, campanili, the broad curves of the Coliseum, the trees
of the Pincio, and the undulating line of the Palatine, all
were white with a deathly whiteness. The bell of the Passion-
ist Retreat began to ring, and then in single strokes, like a
knell rung in a sepulchre, came the reverberating bell of
St. Peter's.

It was a bitter hour for Rossi. He gazed back on Rome
with dim eyes and an aching heart. lie was leaving it in sad-
ness, in sorrow, almost in shame. The people who had believed
in him and followed him, the friends who had loved him and
stood by him — where were they? Dead, in disgrace, or in
prison. And he was flying away ! He felt guilty and ashamed,
and had half an impulse to turn back. But something outside
himself restrained him, and he continued to go on. " Neverthe-
less, not my will but Thine be done ! "

The sun rose and the lad who was driving the first of the
wine-carts began to sing. Rossi looked back at the city a sec-
ond time, and now the domes and cupolas were glistening with
gleams of sunlight on the snow. The thought of last night was
bitterest of all now, when the sweet morning had fully dawned.
But hope came with the memory of the past.

Rome, the city of the Emperors, the city of the Popes, the
city of the Kings, would be the city of the peoples after all!
Rome, from which the word of division had first gone forth,
when man divided humanity into two races, the race of the
rich and the race of the poor, the race of the bond and the race
of the free, the race of the friend and the race of the foe, was

334 'I'HE ETERNAL CITY • , - ,

the same Rome from which the word of Unity would yet go out
to tell the world that it was one.

It was God's decree, and no one could resist it. It was the
rising tide on the seashore, and none could keep it back. Popes,
who ruled in the name of infallibility and must therefore be
despots — let who will deceive themselves — Kings who reigned
in the name of liberty and suffered their servants to withdraw
the rights which they had no title from God to grant, all, all
would disappear!

When Rossi looked back on Rome again the sun had melted
the thin snow and the city lay basking under a cloudless sky.
By this time the wine-carts had reached the top of a hill on
the Campagna, the lad who was driving the first of them was
making the aqueducts ring with his singing, and the other
drivers were asleep.

Rossi took his last look back on the city of his soul. She
held everything that was dear to him. Would he ever see her
again ? Roma ! Roma ! His two Romas !

Tears filled his eyes and blotted out everything. The wine-
carts dipped over the hill, and the horses tinkled along.

When the train which left Rome for Florence and Milan at
9.30 in the morning arrived at the country station of Monte
Rotondo, eighteen miles out, a man in top-boots, blue trousers,
a white waistband and a red-lined overcoat got into the peo-
ple's compartment. The train was crowded with foreigners
who were flying from the risks of insurrection, and even the
third-class carriages were filled with well-dressed strangers.
They were talking bitterly of their experiences the night be-
fore. Most of them had been compelled to barricade their bed-
room doors at the hotels, and some had even passed the night
at the railway station.

" It all comes of letting men like this Rossi go at large,"
said a young Englishman with the voice of a pea-hen. " For
my part I would put all these anarchists on an uninhabited
island and leave them to fight it out among themselves."

" Say, Rossi isn't an anarchist," said a man with an Ameri-
can intonation.

"What is he?"

" A dreamer of dreams."

" Bad dreams then," said the voice of the pea-hen, and
there was general laughter.

PAET SIX

THE ROMAN OF ROME

Roma awoke next morning with a feeling of joy. The dan-
gers of last night were over and David Rossi had escaped.
Where would he be by this time ? She looked at her little round
watch and reckoned the hours that had passed against the speed
of the train.

But suddenly the unspeakable elation of victory gave place
to a poignant memory. She remembered what the Baron had
said on leaving her : " I will continue to think of you as my
wife according to the law of Nature, and of the man who has
come between us as your lover." This brought back a sense of
infamy and made her feverish and afraid.

So far as she was herself concerned things were in a more
dangerous state than before. She had married David Rossi and
yet the secret of her soul he did not know. It was true he would
not listen when she tried to tell him. Nevertheless she must
confess everything. It was the only way. But when? And
how?

Natalina came with the tea and the morning newspaper.
The maid's tongue went faster than her hands as she rattled
on about the terrors of the night and the news of the morning.
Meantime Roma glanced eagerly over the columns of the paper
for its references to Rossi. He was gone. The authorities were
unable to say what had become of him.

With boundless relief Roma turned to the other items of
intelligence. The journal was the organ of the Government
and it contained an extract from the Official Gazette, and the
text of a proclamation by the Prefect. The first announced
that the riot was at an end and Rome was quiet; the second
notified the public that by royal decree the city was declared
to be in a state of siege, and that the King had nominated a
Royal Commissioner with full powers.

335

336 THE ETERNAL CITY

Besides this news there was a general account of the insur-
rection. The ringleaders had been anarchists, socialists and
professed atheists, determined on the destruction of both
throne and altar by any means, however horrible. Their vic-
tims had been drawn, without seeing where they were going,
into a vortex of disorder, and the soldiers had defended society
and the law. Happily the casualties were few. The only fatal
incident had been the death of a child, seven years of age, the
son of a workman. The people of Rome had to congratulate
themselves on the promptness of a government which had rein-
stated authority with so small a loss of blood.

Roma remembered what Rossi had said about Elena —
" think of Elena when she awakes in the morning, alone with
her terrible grief " — and putting on a plain dark cloth dress she
set oif for the Piazza Navona.

It was eleven o'clock and the sun was shining on the melt-
ing snow. Rome was like a dead city. The breath of revolu-
tion had passed over it. Broken tiles lay on the pavement of
the slushy streets, and here and there were the remains of
abandoned barricades. The shops, which are the eyes of a city,
were nearly all closed and asleep. Houses which could claim
foreign protection had hung out their national flags, and sol-
diers and police with a look of fatigue were marching through
every thoroughfare.

At a flower-shop, which was opened to her knock, Roma
bought a wreath of white chrysanthemums. A group of men
and women stood at the door in the Piazza Navona and she re-
ceived their kisses on her hands. The Garibaldian followed her
up the stairs, and his old wife, who stood at the top, called her
" Little Sister," and then burst into tears.

Roma was much affected on entering the house. Elena saw
her coming and by right of the dignity which the company
of death gives to the humblest of the aflflicted, she rose up and
kissed her on the cheek. Then the stricken mother took Roma's
hand and led her into the dining room.

The boy lay on the couch, just where Roma had first seen
him, when David Rossi was lifting him up asleep. He might
have been asleep now, so peaceful was his expression under the
mysterious seal of death. The blinds were drawn, and the
sun came through them with a yellow light. Four candles were
burning on chairs at the head and two at the feet. The little
body was still dressed in the gay clothes of the festival, and the
cocked hat and the gilt-headed mace lay beside it. But the

THE ROMAN OF ROME 337

little chubby hands were clasped over a tiny crucifix, and the
hair of the little shock head was brushed smooth and flat.

" There he is," said Elena, in a cracked voice, and she went
down on her knees between the candles.

Roma, who could not speak, put the wreath of chrysanthe-
mums on the brave little breast, and knelt by the mother's side.
At that they all broke down together. The old woman was
the first to speak.

" Madonna Santa ! It's hard, but let the Blessed Virgin
do as she likes. I washed him myself. I wouldn't let anybody
else touch him. His sweet little body was just as white as a fish,
bless him. And knowing how proud he was of the clothes you
gave him . . ."

" Don't, mamma, don't, don't ! " cried Elena.

And then Elena in her turn began to talk of the boy, his
little ways, his disposition, his playthings, his prattle, his am-
bitions, and what he said he would do for mamma when he grew
up to be a man and went to live at Donna Roma's.

" And now . . . there he is ! " she said in her cracked voice
and again her tears began to flow.

" He's smiling, isn't he ? Isn't he smiling ? Perhaps he
didn't feel anything. . . . Yes? Do you think perhaps he
didn't even know ? Oh, how I wish I had his portrait ! I'll want
his portrait for his grave. If I had only thought of it in time !
It was his birthday and he was up with the sun in the morning
to put on his new suit. And now . . . there he is ! "

The old Garibaldi an wiped his rheumy eyes and began to
talk of David Rossi. He was as fond of Joseph as if the boy
had been his own son. But what had become of the Honour-
able ? Before daybreak the police had made a domiciliary per-
quisition in the apartment, carried off his papers and sealed
up his rooms.

" Have no fear for him," said Roma, and then she asked
about Bruno. All they knew was that Bruno had been arrested
and locked up in the prison called Regina Coeli.

" Poor Bruno ! He'll be dying to know what is happening
here," said Elena.

" I'll see him," said Roma.

It was well she had come early. In the stupefaction of their
sorrow the three poor souls were like helpless children and had
done nothing. Roma sent the Garibaldian to the sanitary office
for the doctor, who was to verify the death, to the office of
health to register it, and to the Municipal office to arrange for

338 THE ETERNAL CITY

the funeral. It was to be a funeral of the third category, with
a funeral car of two horses and a coach with liveried coach-
men. The grave was to be one of the little vaults, the Fomelli,
set apart for children. The priest was to be instructed to buy
many candles and order several Frati. The expense would be
great, but Roma undertook to bear it, and when she left the
house the old people kissed her hands again and loaded her with
blessings.

II

The Roman prison with the extraordinary name, " The
Queen of Heaven," is a vast yellow building on the Trastevere
side of the river. Behind it rises the Janiculum, in front of it
runs the Tiber, and on both sides of it are narrow lanes cut off
by high walls. There is a large entrance hall which is sepa-
rated from the penitentiary by a flight of steps and an iron
gate. Four Carabineers are stationed at the outer door, the
lanes are patrolled by infantry and the hill is also guarded.

On the morning after the insurrection a great many per-
sons had gathered at the entrance of this prison. Old men, who
were lame or sick or nearly blind, stood by a dead wall which
divides the street from the Tiber, and looked on with dazed and
vacant eyes. Younger men nearer the entrance read the proc-
lamations posted up on the pilasters. One of these was the
proclamation of the Prefect announcing the state of siege,
another was the proclamation of the Royal Commissioner call-
ing on citizens to consign all the arms in their possession to
the Chief of Police under pain of imprisonment.

In the entrance hall there was a crowd of women, each car-
rying a basket or a bundle in a handkerchief. They were young
and old, dressed variously as if from different provinces, but
nearly all poor, untidy and unkempt. Through them, among
them and above them moved the white and red plumes of the
soldiers on guard, and at frequent intervals the clamour of
their mournful tongues was silenced by the loud command of
a Carabineer.

" It is a great punishment God has sent us," said the women
in the entrance hall, and the men outside ground their teeth
and muttered, " There'll be a shower of crosses after this."

"Silence!"

" Only bread and water for breakfast, a plate of soup for
dinner and nothing after that until morning," said the women.

THE ROMAN OF ROME 339

And the men muttered under their breath, " He's the hard bone
of Italy, curse him ! But wait, only wait ! "

" Silence ! "

"I've brought a basket full of the grace of God, but the
maccaroni is getting cold and they don't open the door."

" Silence ! "

The iron gate was opened, and an oificer, two soldiers and
a warder came out to take the food which the women had
brought for their relatives imprisoned within. Then there
was a terrific tumult. " Mr. Officer, please ! " " Please, Mr.
Officer ! " " Be kind to Giuseppe, and the Saints bless you ! "
" My turn next ! " " No, mine ! " " Don't push ! " " You're
pushing yourself ! " " You're knocking the basket out of my
hands ! " " Get away ! " " You cat ! You . . ."

" Silence ! Silence ! Silence ! " cried the officer, shouting
the women down, and meantime the men in the street outside
curled their lips and tried to laugh.

Into this wild scene, full of the acrid exhalations of human
breath, and the nauseating odour of unclean bodies, moved,
nevertheless, by the finger of God himself, the cab which
brought Roma to see Bruno discharged her at the prison door.

The officer on the steps saw her over the heads of the women
with their outstretched arms, and judging from her appear-
ance that she came on other business he called to a Carabineer
to attend to her.

" I wish to see the Director," said Roma.

" Certainly, Excellency," said the Carabineer, and with
a salute he led the way by a side door to the offices on the floor
above.

The Governor of Regina Coeli was a middle-aged man with
a kindly face, but under the new order he could do nothing.

" Everything relating to the political prisoners is in the
hands of the Royal Commissioner," he said.

" Where can I see him, Cavaliere ? "

" He is with the Minister of War to-day, arranging for the
Military Tribunals, but perhaps to-morrow at his office in the
Castle of St. Angelo . . ."

" Thanks ! Meantime can I send a message into the
prison ? "

" Yes."

" And may I pay for a separate cell for a prisoner, with
food and light if necessary ? "

" Undoubtedly."

340 THE ETERNAL CITY

Roma undertook the expense of these privileges and then
scribbled a note to Bruno :

" Dear Friend, — Don't lose heart ! Your dear ones shall be
cared for and comforted. lie whom you love is safe, and your
darling is in heaven. Sleep well ! These days will pass. — R. V."

In Italy a funeral follows hard upon a death. By order of
the authorities little Joseph was buried the same day. It was
near the hour of Ave Maria when Roma had returned to the
Piazza Navona. The municipal undertaker had come and the
little body lay in a stained deal coffin bearing a small metal
shield, inscribed, " Joseph Mazzini Bruno, Aged seven years,
Died February 1st."

While the bells of Rome were ringing, the funeral ear and
the carriage drove up to the door. The priest came upstairs
in his white surplice and black stole. Behind him were his
assistants carrying the cross and the aspersorium. Two brown
friars with lighted candles had entered in front of them.

Everyone knelt. The priest sprinkled the coffin with holy
water and intoned the Psalm, " Out of the depths have I cried
unto Thee. Hear thou my voice, 0 Lord ! "

Elena was on her knees by the coffin, and Roma stood be-
side her, holding tightly her trembling hands. The old people
knelt behind the priest, and the doorway and landing were filled
with a throng of neighbours.

The buriers lifted up the little bier, the friars with the
lighted candles took their places behind it, and the priest led
the way downstairs, intoning the antiphon, " The humbled
bones shall _exult unto the Lord."

Elena and Roma remained where they were, while the pro-
cession passed out of the house. The voices of the priest and of
his assistants came up to them in a dying rumble.

A moment later the staircase was silent, and the house was
empty. Then the desolation of Elena's heart overcame her and
she burst into sobs. After a while she became calmer and Roma
took her upstairs to her own apartment. From there they
could look down on the piazza and see the procession as it
passed to the church.

It was a grand funeral, such as had rarely been seen in that
quarter. First, the funeral car which was brilliantly embel-
lished with the wreath of white chrysanthemums hanging from
the cross, then the coach with liveried coachmen, then the friars

THE ROMAN OF ROME 341

with lighted candles, and last of all the crowd of neighbours
with bare heads and faces lit with awe. Elena was comforted
by its grandeur and even dried her eyes and smiled.

But when the procession was gone her desolation again over-
came her, and she sank on her knees before a little painted fig-
ure of the Madonna which stood on the night table by the bed.

" Oh, Holy Virgin," she prayed, " why didst thou extin-
guish the life of my little one? Thou art so lovely, thou art
so gracious, how couldst thou find it in thy heart to take him
from me ? Take me also, oh. Blessed Virgin ! My treasure is
gone ! My joy is gone ! My husband is gone too ! What have
I to live for now? Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with
thee. . . . Amen ! "

Unable to see through the mist that dimmed her eyes, Roma
turned softly and stole out of the house. That night she
wrote the first part of a letter to David Rossi :

" David — my David ! It is early days to call you by a
dearer name, but the sweet word is on the tip of my pen, and
I can hardly help myself from scribbling it. You wished me
to tell you what is happening in Rome, and here I am begin-
ning to write already, though when and how and where this
letter is to reach you, I must leave it to Fate and to yourself
to determine. Fancy ! Only eighteen hours since we parted !
It seems inconceivable ! I feel as if I had lived a lifetime.

" Do you know, I did not go to bed when you left me. I
had so many things to think about. And, tired as I was, I slept
little, and was up early. The morning dawned beautifully. It
was perfectly tragic. So bright and sunny after that night of
slaughter, ^o rattle of cars, no tinkle of trams, no calls of
the water carriers and of the pedlars in the streets. It was
for all the world like that awful quiet of the sea the morning
after a tempest, with the sun on its placid surface and not a
hint of the wrecks beneath.

" I remembered what you said about Elena and went down
to see her. The poor girl has just parted with her dead child.
She did it with a brave heart, God pity her, taking comfort in
the Blessed Virgin, as the mother in heaven who knows all our
sorrows and asks God to heal them. Ah, what a sweet thing it
must be to believe that. Do you believe it ? "

Here she wanted to say something about her secret. She
tried to but she could not do it.

342 THE ETERNAL CITY

" I couldn't see Bruno to-day, but I hope to do so to-mor-
row, and meantime I have ordered food to be supplied to him.
If I could only do something to some purpose ! But five hun-
dred of your friends are in Regina Coeli, and my poor little
efforts are a drop of water in a mighty ocean.

" Rome is a deserted city to-day, and but for the soldiers
v.'ho are everywhere it would look like a dead one. The steps
of the Piazza di Spagna are empty, not a model is to be seen,
not a flower is to be bought, and the fountain is bubbling in
silence. After sunset a certain shiver passes over the world,
and after an insurrection something of the same kind seems
to pass over a city. The churches and the hospitals are the only
places open, and the doctors and their messengers are the only
people moving about.

" Just one of the newspapers has been published to-day and
it is full of proclamations. Everybody is to be indoors by nine
o'clock, and the cafes are to be closed at eight. Arms are to
be consigned at the Questura, and meetings of more than four
persons are strictly forbidden. Rewards of pardon are offered
to all rioters who will inform on the ringleaders of the insur-
rection, and of money to all citizens who will denounce the con-
spirators. The military tribunals are to begin to-morrow and
domiciliary visitations are already being made. Your own
apartments have been searched and sealed and the police have
carried off papers.

" Such are the doings of this evil day, and yet — selfish
woman that I am — I cannot for my life think it is all evil.
Has it not given me you ? And if it has taken you away from
me as well, I can wait, I can be patient. Where are you now
I wonder ? And are you thinking of me while I am thinking of
you ? Oh, how splendid ! Think of it ! Though the train may
be carrying you away from me every hour and every minute,
before long we shall be together. In the first dream of the
first sleep I shall join you, and we shall be cheek to cheek and
heart to heart. Good-night, my dear one ! "

Again she tried to say something about her secret. But no I
" Not to-night," she thought, and after switching off the light
and kissing her hand in the darkness to the stars that hung
over the north, she laughed at her own foolishness and went
to bed.

THE ROMAN OP ROME 343

in

The work of the Military Tribunals began at eight o'clock
the following morning. The sun had risen, the slush of the
snow was gone, and the courtyard of the Castle of St. Angelo
was bright and busy. Officers in the uniform of various regi-
ments, carrying portfolios and papers, were coming and going
with quick steps. A line of policemen in hats and cock
feathers kept a way clear from the gate to the Castle, and
civilians with tickets of admission were permitted to pass. As
the Castle clock was striking, the black van of Regina Coeli
rattled over the stones of the courtyard with the first batch of
prisoners. There were ten of them, nearly all poorly clad, and
when they stepped down at the door there was a clank of chains
in the morning air.

The military court sat in a large gloomy chamber with
arched roof and sandstone walls. It was divided into two
unequal parts, the larger part for judges and counsel, the
smaller part for the public. A long horse-shoe table, covered
with green cloth, stood under a portrait of the King which
was draped with flags and surmounted by a streamer bearing
the words, " The law is equal for all." In the centre of the
horse-shoe the President sat in a large red arm-chair, with his
assistant Judges on either side. At tables in the well of the
court the prosecutors and defenders were sitting with the official
instructors, the secretaries and their deputies. Everybody was
in military uniform, whether of infantry, cavalry, artillery or
engineers, and nearly all wore orders. Beyond a wooden bar-
rier the public were huddled together in an oblong space with-
out seats.

Meantime, the Royal Commissioner sat in his private office
upstairs with two of the Ministers of State. One of these was
the Baron Bonelli and the other was the Minister of War. The
Baron looked fresh and composed, for the tumults of the past
days had ruffled neither his teriiper nor his toilet. General
Morra looked troubled, and his blunt and rugged face seemed
more than ever like a thing carved out by an adze. The Royal
Commissioner, who wore the unifonn of a general, was a
small man with a doubtful expression. His left eye had a
fixed pupil, which gave the effect of a squint.

" General," said the Baron, seating himself by a table, " the
Government has complete confidence in your wisdom and di-
plomacy, or it would not have recommended the King to place

344 THE ETERNAL CITY

you in this position, but it may satisfy my colleague " — he
made a gentle motion of his hand towards the Minister of War,
who was walking uneasily to and fro — " and perhaps relieve
you of a certain burden of responsibility, if I ask you to say at
the outset what you have done, what you are doing, and what
the programme is which you propose to follow."

" With pleasure, Excellency," said the Royal Commissioner,
" and perhaps the simplest way is to read the Verhale of what
we have done down to date."

" Do," said the Baron, and the Royal Commissioner rose,
opened a portfolio and began to read.

" In the name of His Majesty — by the grace of God and the
will of the nation. King . . ."

" Skip that," said the Baron.

The Royal Commissioner turned a page and began again.

" It having been proved by the reading of documents and
the deposition of witnesses . . ."

" And that ..."

The Royal Commissioner turned another page.

" Considering that the riot on the night of February 1st
was the work of propaganda made in the ways above indicated,
Rome was by royal decree declared to be in a state of siege, a
Royal Commissioner was appointed, the city was divided into
four zones, each under the command of a general, the streets
and squares were occupied by military cordons, and the tri-
bunal of war was authorised to judge civilians arrested as
rioters according to the conditions of military law."

" Come to the regulations."

" The Royal Commissioner has ordered that for the present
theatres, wine-shops, and cafes shall be closed at 8 p. m., meet-
ings of more than four persons shall be forbidden, the circula-
tion of revolutionary writings and seditious proclamations
shall be treated as treason and . . ."

The Minister of War stopped in his walk, and the Royal
Commissioner paused.

" Go on," said the Baron.

" And that any action aimed against the sovereign, de-
signed to change the form of Government or to cause danger
to the State, shall be considered as high treason and dealt
with by summary judgment."

"Good! What about the journals sequestered?"

The Royal Commissioner read a list of them. It ended
with the Sunrise.

THE ROMAN OF ROME 345

" What about the societies suppressed ? "

The Royal Commissioner read the names. The last of them
was the " Republic of Man."

" What about domiciliary perquisitions ? "

The Royal Commissioner read the addresses of houses and
apartments in which incriminating documents had been seized
for the discovery of the plot and the circumstances of com-
plicity.

" And now for the rioters arrested."

" There are nearly five hundred, your Excellency. This is
a list of them."

It ended with " Bruno Rocco, sculptor's assistant, 14 Piazza
Navona, accused of violent resistance to the authorities on the
night of the first of February, and the wounding of various
soldiers."

" Good ! " said the Baron again. " You are more than mer-
ciful, dear General, to the lesser delinquents who had thrown
themselves into the hands of the law. But what of the greater
criminals who led on the ignorant and deluded crowd? Have
you drawn up a warrant against David Rossi ? "

" It is here, Excellency."

" Read it."

The Minister of War resumed his uneasy walk, and the
Royal Commissioner began to read.

" David Rossi, of 14 Piazza Xavona, to whom are imputed
the crimes mentioned in Articles 134 and 252 of the Penal
Code, being out of the reach of justice, is accused of having by
his intelligence and energy, and the great influence he has
acquired among the people, by writings in public journals, by
speeches in public places and by the institution of associations,
conspired to carry on a subversive propaganda, to circulate
revolutionary ideas, to urge the masses to resist authority and
to change violently the constitution of the State, and particu-
larly of contributing to the riot of the first of February, the
said David Rossi is hereby ordered to present himself for trial
before the military tribunal sitting in the Castle of St. Angelo
in Rome within . . . days of the date hereof, under pain of
being tried and condemned in contumacy' for the crimes herein
detailed."

The Minister of War put his clenched hand on the table.
" You cannot issue a warrant like that," he said.

" Why not ? " said the Baron.

" Because Rossi is a Deputy. A Deputy must be taken in
33

346 THE ETERNAL CITY -

the act. The statute says clearly that only the flagrant offence ]
can annul the immunity of a member of Parliament. Rossi '<
is gone, and you cannot follow him."

" My dear colleague," said the Baron, smiling, " you are
talking nonsense. What is the crime with which the man is ■
charged? Conspiracy! What is conspiracy ? Is it like murder,
a crime committed in a moment ? No ! It is an offence which
goes on all the time. Therefore conspiracy itself is flagrance, I
and any man can be arrested who can be proved to conspire." |

" Tell me by what means you can prove that Rossi is con-
spiring without the trial to which you have no right to sum- ,
mon him." j

" By the means we employ to prove the crime of every
criminal."

" The secret inquiry? "

"Why not?"

" In that case, Excellency, you must be good enough to
proceed without my assistance. I have no sympathy with the
aims of David Rossi. As a Minister of State and your col-
league, I have been with you in your desire to safeguard the
cause of order and the rights of existing institutions. But as
a man and a Roman I am against you when you violate the
statute and cut at the liberties of the nation. Your Excel-
lency, I have the honour to wish you good-morning."

The Minister of War saluted the Baron as if he had been
a private in uniform and walked briskly out of the room.

The Baron took a flower from his buttonhole and put it
to his nose.

" The man is a fool," he said after a moment, " Still, he
is so far right that we can only issue your warrant, if at all,
upon the clearest evidence of conspiracy. What evidence have
you?"

" Not too much, your Excellency."

" No incriminating documents ? "

" None."

" You have made your domiciliary visitation and found '
nothing?"

" Nothing of consequence ? "

" Who are your witnesses ? "

" Tommaso and Francesca Mariotti, of 14 Piazza Navona,
porter and portress, Elena Rocco and Bruno Rocco, Charles
Minghelli, agent of police, and Donna Roma Volonna of i
18 ..."

THE ROMAN OF ROME 347

" Drop that name out."

"Your Excellency?"

" Drop that last name out for the present. What is Min-
ghelli doing for you ? "

" I have sent him into Regina Coeli as a prisoner."

" As a prisoner ? "

" To meet other prisoners and gather evidence."

"And the Director?"

" He was difficult at first, but I sent for him last night and
he is all right now. ' I don't want you to do a bad action,
Cavaliere,' I said. ' You are the Director of a great prison,
and it is your duty to sei-ve your King and counti-y. We have
reason to believe that the riot of the first of February was in-
stigated by a revolutionary organisation and that one at least
of your prisoners knows all the facts of the plot and the cir-
cumstances of the complicity. His name is Bruno Kocco. He
has a good heart and he committed the crime with which he
is charged under the influence of persons above him. Help us
to discover who those persons are, and you will be doing a ser-
vice to the Government.' "

" And what is the result ? "

" Minghelli has been put into a cell next to Bruno's ; the
two men are friends already and have opened up communica-
tion with each other, by means of raps on the wall in the usual
language of prisoners."

The fixed pupil of the left eye of the Royal Commissioner
squinted badly at that moment and his face broke into a smile.

" General," said the Baron, rising to go, " I am satisfied you
are on the right track, and it will give me pleasure to inform
the King that your management of this difficult enterprise
promises to justify the confidence I felt when I proposed you
for your distinguished position."

During the short half-hour occupied by this interview the
Military Tribunal had proceeded with despatch. Ten prisoners
had been condemned to sentences of imprisonment ranging
from ten days to ten years, and the black van of Regina Coeli
was rattling over the stones again.

348 THE ETERNAL CITY

IV

Roma awoke that morning with a sense of pain. Almost
before she was back into her bodily presence from the joyful
shadowland of dream the Baron's incisive accents were hack-
ing at her ear : " I have conquered worse obstacles in my time,
and perhaps in this instance Nature herself will fight for me
to call you back to your true place and your duty."

She began to realise the price she had paid for victory.
Thus far she had beaten the Baron — yes ! But David Rossi ?
Had she sinned against God and against her husband?

She must confess. There was no help for it. And there
must be no hesitation and no delay.

Natalina came into the bedroom and threw open the shut-
ters. She was bringing a telegram, and Roma almost snatched
it out of her hands. ^ It was from Rossi and had been sent off
from Chiasso. " Crossed frontier safe and well."

Roma made a cry of joy and leapt out of bed. All day long
that telegram was like wings under her heels and made her walk
with an elastic step.

While taking her coffee she remembered the responsibilities
she had undertaken the day before — for the boy's funeral and
Bruno's maintenance — and for the first time in her life she
began to consider ways and means. Her ready money was
getting low, and it was necessary to do something.

Then Felice came with a sheaf of papers. They were trades-
men's bills and required immediate payment. Some of the men
were below and refused to go away without the cash.

There was no help for it. She opened her purse, discharged
her debts, swept her debtors out of the house, and sat down to
count what remained.

Very little remained. But what matter? The five words of
that telegram were five bright stars which could light up a
darker sky than had fallen on her yet.

The only thing that hurt her was the implication, which
the importunities of the tradesmen conveyed, that she was
nobody now that the friendship and favour of the Baron were
gone. She remembered her art, and her pride rose in revolt.
The world should see that she was somebody after all, somebody
for herself, and not merely a creature living in the light of
a great man's smiles.

In this high mood she went down to the studio — silent
now in the absence of the humorous voice that usually rang in

THE ROMAN OP ROME 349

it, and with Bruno's chisels and mallet lying idle with his sack
on a block of half-hewn marble. Uncovering her fountain she
looked at it again. It was good work; she knew it was good,
she could be certain it was good. It should justify her yet,
and some day the stupid people who were sheering away from
her now would come cringing to her feet afresh.

That suggested thoughts of the Mayor. She would write,
to him and get some money with which to meet the expenses of
yesterday as well as the obligations which she might perhaps
incur to-day or in the future.

" Dear Senator Palomba," she wrote, " no doubt you have
often wondered why your much-valued commission has not
been completed before. The fact is that it suffered a slight ac-
cident a few days ago, but a week or a fortnight ought to see it
finished, and if you wish to make arrangements for its recep-
tion you may count on its delivery in that time. Meantime
as I am pressed for funds at the momelit I shall be glad if
you can instruct your treasurer at the Municipality to let
me have something on account. The price mentioned, you
remember, was 15,000 francs, and as I have not had anything
hitherto I trust it may not be unreasonable to ask for half
now, leaving the remainder until the fountain is in its
place."

Having despatched this challenge by Felice, not only to the
Mayor, but also to herself, her pride, her poverty, and to the
great world generally, she put on her cloak and hat and drove
down to the Castle of St. Angelo.

When she returned an hour afterwards there was a di*y
glitter in her eyes, which increased to a look of fever when she
opened the drawing-room door and saw who was waiting there.
It was the Mayor himself. The little oily man in patent-
leather boots, holding upright his glossy silk hat, was clearly
nervous and confused. He complimented her on her appear-
ance, looked out of the window, extolled the view, and finally,
with his back to his hostess, began on his business.

" It is about your letter, you know," he said, awkwardly.
" There seems to be a little misunderstanding on your part.
About the fountain, I mean."

" !N^one whatever, Senator. You ordered it. I have exe-
cuted it. Surely the matter is quite simple."

" Impossible, my dear. I may have encouraged you to an
experimental trial. We all do that. Rome is eager to discover
genius. But a simple member of a corporate body cannot

350 THE ETERNAL CITY

undertake . . . that is to say, on his own responsibility, you
know . . ."

Roma's breath began to come quickly. " Do you mean that
you didn't commission my fountain ? "

" How could I, my child ? Such matters must go through a
regular form. The proper committee must sanction and re-
solve . . ."

" But everybody has known of this, and it has been gen-
erally understood from the first."

" Ah, understood ! Possibly ! Rumour and report perhaps."

" But I could bring witnesses — high witnesses — the very
highest if needs be . . ."

The little man smiled benevolently.

" Surely there is no witness of any standing in the State
who would go into a witness box and say that without a con-
tract, and with only a few encouraging words . . ."

The dry glitter in Roma's eyes shot into a look of anger.
" Do you call your letters to me a few encouraging words
only ? " she said.

" My letters ? " The glossy hat was getting ruffled.

" Your letters alluding to this matter, and enumerating the
favours you wished me to ask of the Pi'ime Minister."

" My dear," said the Mayor after a moment, " I'm sorry if
I have led you to build up hopes, and though I have no au-
thority ... if it will end matters amicably ... I think I
can promise ... I might perhaps promise a little money for
your loss of time."

" Do you suppose I want charity ? "

"Charity, my dear?"

" What else would it be ? If I have no right to everything
I will have nothing. I will take none of your money. You
can leave mc."

The little man shuffled his feet and bowed himself out of the
room with many apologies and praises which Roma did not
hear. For all her brave words her heart was breaking and she
was holding her breath to repress a sob. The great bulwark
she had built up for herself lay wrecked at her feet. She had
deceived herself into believing that she could be somebody for
herself. Going down to the studio she covered up the fountain.
It had lost every quality which she had seen in it before. Art
was gone from her. She was nobody. It was very, very
cruel.

But that glorious telegram rustled in her breast like a cap-

THE ROMAN OP ROME 351

five song-bird, and before going to bed she wrote to David
Rossi again :

" Your message arrived before I was up this morning, and
not being entirely back from the world of dreams I fancied it
was an angel's whisper. This is silly, but I wouldn't change
it for the greatest wisdom if in order to be the most wise and
wonderful among women I had to love you less.

" Attention ! Business first, and other things afterwards.
Most of the newspapers have been published to-day, and some
of them are blowing themselves out of breath in abuse of you,
and howling louder than the wolves at the Capitol before rain.
The Military Courts began this morning and they have already
polished oif fifty victims. Rewards for denunciations have now
deepened to threats of imprisonment for non-denunciation.
General Morra, Minister of War, has sent in his resignation,
and there is bracing weather in the neighbourhood of the
Palazzo Braschi. An editor has been arrested, many journals
and societies have been suppressed, and twenty thousand of the
contadini who came to Rome for the meeting in the Coliseum
have been despatched to their own communes. Finally, the
Royal Commissioner has written to the Pope calling on him to
assist in the work of pacifying the people, and it is rumoured
that the Holy Office is to be petitioned by certain of the Bishops
to denounce the ' Republic of Man ' as a secret society (like the
Freemasons) coming within the ban of the Pontifical con-
stitutions.

" So much for general news, and now for more personal
intelligence. I went down to the Castle of St. Angelo this
morning and was permitted to speak to the Royal Commis-
sioner. Recognised him instantly as a regular old-timer at the
heels of the Baron, and tackled him on our ancient terms. The
wretch — he squints and he smoked a cigarette all through the
interview — couldn't allow me to see Bruno during the private
preparation of the case against him, and when I asked* if the
instruction would take long he said, ' Probably, as it is compli-
cated by the case of some one else who is not yet in custody.'
Then I asked if I might employ separate counsel for the de-
fence, and he shuffled and said it was unnecessary. This de-
cided me, and I walked straight to the office of the great law-
yer, Xapoleon Fuselli, promised him five hundred francs by to-
morrow morning, and told him to go ahead without delay.

" But heigh-ho, nonny ! Coming home I felt like the

352 THE ETERNAL CITY

witches in Macbeth. * By the pricking of my thumbs some-
thing wicked this way comes.' It was Senator Tom-tit, the
little fat Mayor of Rome. His ambition is to be a noble,
and to wear